F-46m 


FROM    THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 


THE   LIBRARY   OF 


PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


m 


emotion         f^^ 


HARMONISE  C 


enti£itian    MtloXfitu 


AND 


OTHER    POEMS. 


4|* 


BY  GEORGE  BETTNER,  M.  D. 


.911  truth  is  precious^  if  not  all  divine^ 

JJnd  what  dilates  the  powers,  must  needs  refine. 

COWPER . 


NEW-YORK— M'ELRATH,  BANGS  &  Go 


MDCCCXXXII  I, 


Entered  according  to  an  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred and  lliirty-lwo,  by  M'Elrath  &  Bangs,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Court  of 
the  United  States,  for  the  SouUiem  District  of  NeW'York. 


r.  08B0RN  AND  CO.,  PRINTERS, 

85  Chaihara-Btreet. 


*.  TO 

WASHINGTON    IRVING,    L.L.D 

THIS 

VOLUME    OF    POEMS, 

IS 

RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED, 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


These  effusions  are  the  fruit  of  leisure  hours,  which, 
if  not  thus  employed,  might  have  passed  avvay  in  un- 
profitable idleness  or  ease.  The  utmost  that  can  be  ex- 
pected in  regard  to  them  is,  that  with  the  reader,  they  may 
beguile  some  pensive  moments,  as  they  did  with  the 
writer  while  he  was  composing  them. 

Unable  to  hope  either  for  fame  or  favour,  the  author 
would  not  willingly  expose  himself  to  censure.  The  be- 
lief is  however  entertained,  that  the  innocent  tendency  of 
the  work,  may  be  alleged  in  vindication  of  the  correct 
intentions  which  led  to  its  publication.  The  Melodies 
are  made  up  of  detached  pieces  ;  yet  the  plan  which  has 
been  kept  in  view,  and  which  embraces  the  component 
parts  together  as  a  whole,  will  be  readily  perceived. 

It  may  be  said,  that  we  have  already  a  sufficiency  of 
melodies,  "Amatory,"  "Sacred,"  "Hebrew,"  "Pastoral," 
and  even  "  Indian  Melodies."     But,  perhaps,  it  will  not 

!•  4 


VI 


prove  a  violation  of  taste,  or  inconsistent  with  the  legiti- 
mate ends  of  poetry,  morality,  and  religion,  to  add  these 
Christian  Melodies  to  the  list. 

To  the  Harmoniae  Caelestes,  a  variety  of  miscellaneous 
pieces  have  been  subjoined. 

Convinced  of  this  truth,  that  poetry  must  be  estimated 
entirely  by  its  own  intrinsic  merit,  the  production,  such 
as  it  is,  is  submitted  to  the  candid  judgment  of  the  liberal 
reader. 


CONTENTS. 


MELODIES. 

Page 

The  Sentinel         13 

The  Weeping  over  Jerusalem 16 

Forgive  the  Thoughts  which  Rise 18 

I  Marked  the  Fountain's  Gentle  Flow 21 

We  Sought  Thee  Sorrowing,  oh,  my  Child  -     -     -  23 

Oh,  how  we  Dread  to  give  to  Earth 25 

Never,  no  Never,  may  we  Fly, 26 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount 28 

The  Death  Watch    - 31 

The  Lonely  Hour 33 

The  Pilgrim's  Prayer 36 

Esther 38 

The  Morning  Dawn 40 

Lazarus 41 

Again,  again,  it  comes  again, 42 


Vlll 

Page 

The  Women  at  the  Tomb 44 

Christ  stiUing  the  Tempest 46 

The  Valley  of  Achor 48 

The  Bliss  of  all  our  Early  Years 51 

Daniel's  Prayer 53 

When  on  Life's  dark  returnless  Shore 56 

In  the  shadow  of  Egypt  they  trusted  in  vain       -     -  58 

Shall  they  who  part  ne'er  meet  again 60 

On  Patmos'  Holy  Isle 62 

The  Song  of  the  Martyrs -     -  64 

The  Spoiler  came 66 

Potestas  Dei 69 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Page 
Futurity 91 

To  a  Lady  Blushing 94 

Forebodings 95 

To  a  Friend 98 

On  Parting 100 

TheBugloss 103 

Echo  to  a  Painter  (from  Ausonius) 105 

Lesbia  (from  the  same)       105 

Lais  presenting  her  Mirror  to  Venus  (from  the  same)  106 

To  the  Musquitoes 107 

To  an  absent  Sister 109 

The  Grave Ill 

The  close  of  Summer 113 

The  Eyes  and  the  Heart 116 

"  I  said  I  would  not  sigh  again" 117 

Fear  and  Hope 120 

The  Wanderer 121 

The  Herald  of  Winter -  123 

\ 


VUl 

Page 

The  Women  at  the  Tomb 44 

Christ  stiUing  the  Tempest 4G 

The  Valley  of  Achor 48 

The  Bliss  of  all  our  Early  Years 51 

Daniel's  Prayer 53 

When  on  Life's  dark  returnless  Shore 5G 

In  the  shadow  of  Egypt  they  trusted  in  vain       -     -  58 

Shall  they  who  part  ne'er  meet  again 60 

On  Patmos'  Holy  Isle G2 

The  Song  of  the  Martyrs -     -  04 

The  Spoiler  came G6 

Potestas  Dei 69 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Page 
Futurity 91 

To  a  Lady  Blushing 94 

Forebodings 95 

To  a  Friend 98 

On  Parting 100 

TheBugloss 103 

Echo  to  a  Painter  (from  Ausonius) 105 

Lesbia  (from  the  same)       105 

Lais  presenting  her  Mirror  to  Venus  (from  the  same)  106 

To  the  Musquitoes 107 

To  an  absent  Sister 109 

The  Grave Ill 

The  close  of  Summer 113 

The  Eyes  and  the  Heart 116 

"  I  said  I  would  not  sigh  again" 117 

Fear  and  Hope 120 

The  Wanderer 121 

The  Herald  of  Winter -  123 

\ 


X 

Page 

Unhappiness 125 

Isabel 126 

Ease  of  Manners 128 

Epigram  to  a  Lady -  129 

Fortune  and  Folly  contending  against  Virtue  and 

Wisdom 130 

L'Amour 132 

The  Mariner's  Wife 133 

Time  and  Love 135 

Youth  and  Age 138 

Isnardia  Palustris 140 

Friendship  and  Love 142 

The  World       144 

Nubes  Magellanse 146 


MELODIES 


THE    SENTINEL. 


On  Zion's  hosts  whilst  slumber  falls, 

And  winds  its  deep,  enchanting  spell, 
Behold  upon  her  holy  walls, 

The  lone,  the  sleepless  sentinel. 
He  guards  each  still,  and  throbbing  breast, 

When  no  protecting  vigil  saves  ; 
And  in  the  silent  hours  of  rest. 

His  peaceful  banner  o'er  us  waves. 

Sweet  be  the  visions  of  repose, 

And  danger  eVer  distant  far. 
But  should  there  come  invading  foes. 

He  peals  the  clarion-blast  of  war. 
If  through  your  ranks  that  sound  should  fly, 

The  balmy  dreams  of  sleep  dispel, 
2 


11 

It  is  the  ch  impiou's  battle  cry, 
Tlie  'larum  of  ihe  sentinel. 

Oblivion  softly  on  us  steals, 

As  pang  by  pang  the  life-cords  part, 
And  colvi  ih'  obstructed  current  feels, 

Congealing  round  the  living  heart. 
The  spirit  from  its  prison  breaks. 

For  froer  cliines  where  it  would  dwell, 
When  death  the  fulling  victim  takes, 

There  stands  the  watchful  sentinel. 

The  altars  where  his  incense  burns, 

The  holy  altars  of  our  hearts, 
Though  mockery  often  scorns  and  spurns, 

Tiie  faithful  guardian  ne'er  departs. 
If  in  our  bo.soms  e'er  arise. 

The  thoughts  which  murmur  and  rebel, 
List,  list,  for  in  those  bosoms  cries, 

The  warning  of  the  sentinel. 

Oh,  arm  with  cuir.iss  and  with  shield. 
And  put  the  sword  and  helmet  on, 

The  foe  is  in  the  battle  field, 

The  victory  must  be  lost  or  won. 


15 

No,  sleep  not  now  upon  your  post, 

Who  m.i}'  his  voice  and  footstf-ps  tell? 

Your  crown  of  life  and  life  are  lost, 
If  3'ou  neglect  the  sentinel. 


I 
THE  WEEPING   OVER  JERUSALEM. 


On  Olivet  He  stood  and  wept, 

O'er  Salem's  future  doom, 
That  all  her  glory  should  be  swept, 

To  ruin  and  the  tomb. 

Lamenting  o'er  his  worship  spurned, 

His  unrequited  love ; 
Oh,  hear  the  sigh  with  which  he  mourned, 

Breathe  through  the  olive  grove. 

Wo,  that  the  time  should  e'er  be  ripe. 

Predicted  by  that  moan, 
Or  grief  for  Salem  prove  the  type, 

For  sorrows  of  his  own. 


17 

But  where  he  stood  in  pensive  wo,'*) 
Were  destined  yet  to  stand, 

Battahons  of  the  armed  foe. 
To  sweep  her  from  the  hind. 

Thou  City  of  the  chosen  fold, 
The  pride  of  Israel's  brow,  2) 

Thy  sun  hath  sunk,  th}^  talc  is  told, 
Where  is  thy  glory  now  ? 


2* 


FORGIVE    THE    THOUGHTS   WHICH 
RISE. 


Forgive  the  thoughts  which  rise, 

Offending  if  they  be, 
Though  oft  the  heart  thy  love  denies, 
It  looketh  up  to  thee. 
It  looketh  up  to  thee, 
To  whom  its  pulses  tend. 
When  none  of  earth  can  hear  or  see, 
The  suppliant  tones  ascend. 

Oh,  could  we  but  adore, 

Like  heaven's  angelic  host ; 
Such  deep,  pure  aspirations  pour. 

We  might  not  deem  us  lost. 

Whilst  seeking  here  to  fly. 
From  phantoms  that  we  clasp, 


19 

The  blossoms  lovely  to  the  eye, 
But  fading  in  the  grasp. 

Ill,  ill  the  fruit  must  be, 

We  labour  to  mature  ; 
The  issue  of  the  fatal  tree. 

Whose  upas  leaves  allure, 
Where  coiled  the  serpent  lies. 
With  poison  in  his  breath, 
Enticing  to  the  golden  prize, 

That  tempts  us  on  to  death. 

Still  waves  a  flaming  sword, 

Where  bowers  of  Eden  are  ; 
That  earth  no  solace  might  afford, 
No  shelter  from  despair. 
But  pangs  within  the  breast, 
The  sweat  drops  on  the  brow. 
And  toils  which  mock  the  hopes  of  rest. 
Our  only  portion  now. 

We  would  not  back  reclaim, 
A  heritage  below : 


20 

If  all  its  joys  should  prove  the  same, 
Or  false  as  those  we  know. 
In  that  decree  we  dread, 
Our  revocation  lies, 
'Tis  our's  to  bruise  the  serpent's  head, 
And  triumph  when  he  dies. 


I     MARKED     THE    FOUNTAIN'S 
GENTLE   FLOW. 


I  MARKED  the  fountain's  gentle  flow, 
As  its  waters  clear  were  boiling, 

But  when  I  pierced  its  depths  below, 
A  serpent  there  was  coiling. 

I  gazed  with  joy  upon  the  main, 
The  zephyrs  o'er  it  roaming — 

But  looking  on  its  waste  again, 
'Twas  tempest-tossed  and  foaming. 

I  searched  the  world's  possessions  o'er, 
The  prospect  was  alluring ; 

But  disappointed  evermore. 
Found  nothing  here  enduring. 


22 

Ah  I  then  an  upward  glance  I  cast, 
To  the  hallowed  hea^^en's  turning, 

A  tranquil  moment  o'er  me  passed, 
The  polar  star  was  burning. 


WE    SOUGHT    THEE     SORROWING, 
OH,    MY    CHILD. 


We  sought  thee  sorrowing,  oh,  my  child, 

And  lonely  was  the  way 
We  trod,  to  lead  thee  back  again, 

When  thou  hadst  gone  astray. 

Th'  agony  of  a  breaking  heart, 

Our  doom  it  was  to  feel ; 
The  pang  a  single  moment  gives, 

Which  years  may  never  heal. 

In  bitterness  of  soul  we  wept, 
Thy  young  and^  guileless  years. 

Whilst  grief  aspired  itself  to  soothe. 
So  generous  were  its  tears. 


24 

We'll  brave  the  raging  of  the  seei, 
We'll  cross  the  burning  wild  ; 

But  never  turn  our  footsteps  home, 
And  leave  behind  our  child. 

But  lively  throbs  of  joy,  my  child, 

Shall  all  the  past  repay ; 
We've  found  thee  in  temple  where^^^ 

Thou  can' St  not  go  astray. 


OH,  HOW  WE  DREAD  TO  GIVE  TO  EARTH. 


Oh,  how  we  dread  to  give  to  earth,  the  body  which  it  gave, 
And  restless  here,  we  shuddering  fear,  the  quiet  of  the  grave, 
What  greater  bhss  the  heart  enjoys,  when  warm  it  is 

and  bold : 
Yet  must  it  like  the  marble  stone,  how  soon  be  turning  cold! 

The  midge  which  sports  in  silvery  beams,   forgets  from 

whence  he  sprung. 
So  sweet  the  little  moment  seems,  so  joyous  and  so  young, 
The  spell  beguiling  evermore,  the  charm  that  ne'er  is  sped, 
He  shrinketh  from  the  evening  dews,  the  chilling  waters 

tread. 

When  looking  on  the  way  before,  how  darkling  is  the  night, 
And  deeply  doth  the  spirit  mourn,  ere  venturing  on  its  flight: 
But  when  in  freedom  it  shall  float,  in  yonder  calm  domain, 
It  smiling  often  looketh  back,  but  cometh  not  again. 

3 


NEVER,   NO   NEVER,    MAY    WE  PLY. 


Never,  no  never,  may  we  fly, 

From  Thought's  supreme  control ; 
Oblivion's  grasp  it  doth  defy, 
Nor  tears  can  quench  it  if  we  try, 
This  watch-fire  of  the  soul. 

Will  future  happier  days  repay, 

The  labours  we  bestow? 
The  whirlwind's  stream  at  last  may  play, 
To  sweep  the  ripened  fields  away. 

Though  well  we  toil  and  sow. 

Our  added  years  give  in  exchange. 

For  all  that  they  destroy ; 
A  mind's  far  wider,  freer  range, 
But  with  it,  feelings  which  estrange 

From  pure  and  simple  joy. 


27 

Would  what  ve  live  to  feel,  endure, 

In  such  a  world  as  this : 
The  bosom's  hidden  wounds  might  cure, 
And  in  our  bondage  state  insure 

The  liberty  of  bliss. 


THE    SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT 


The  clouds  of  terror  Sinai  wore, 

Rest  not  on  Judah's  mountain's  brow/^) 

And  none  may  trembling  here  adore, 
But  come  in  harmless  boldness  now, 

To  hear  such  strains  of  wisdom  pour, 

As  never  have  been  heard  before. 

Bright  are  the  blossoms  of  the  field, 
In  tints  of  living  beauty  drest ; 
The  meadow  waves  its  downy  breast, 

In  tender  germs  the  fruit  is  sealed. 

The  earth  with  fresh  luxuriance  blest — 

What  riches  will  the  harvest  yield  ! 

Ah,  well  may  Nature's  charms  appear. 
In  flowery  wreaths  on  hill  and  plain, 
And  garlands  woven  not  in  vain. 


29 

To  crown  the  promise  of  the  year, 

For  Nature's  sov' reign  Lord  is  here. 

Where  all  revives  to  life  agaiik 

Let  others  prove  as  they  incline, 

The  creeds  and  worship  that  they  own  f 
We  weep  for  those  who  have  not  known, 

The  higher  source  of  truth  divine, 
Nor  for  redemption  look  alone, 

To  Him  that  comes  in  Jesse's  line. 

Ne'er  did  Compassion's  tears  condemn, 
-The  object  fond  for  which  they  fell ; 
Love's  kindest  accents  shall  they  tell. 
Who  faith's  rough  torrents  cannot  steEa^ 
Would  some  Siloam  were  for  them. 
The  Sadducee,  the  Infidel 

Life's  purest  life  here  beams  for  all. 
But  round  us  see  a  warning  lies — 
Survey  this  spot  with  placid  eyes ; 

Here,  where  our  hearts  his  love  recall. 
How  near  Gilboa's  mountains  rise. 

Which  once  were  fatal  unto  Saul !. 
3* 


30 

Celestial  bounty  once  was  found, 
Where  we  sublimest  truths  receive — 
Gird  up  the  loins,  admire,  believe, 

This,  this  indeed  is  holy  ground, 
Our  bosoms  with  devotion  heave, 

Whilst  heavenly  light  is  burning  round ! 


THE    DEATH    WATCH. 


A  VOICE  was  trembling  in  my  ear, 
Even  now  its  dying  note  I  hear, 
It  lingers  jet,  but  silently  ;^^> 

I  mark  alone, 

Its  dreary  tone, 
Hark,  list,  oh,  tell  me,  can  it  be. 

The  mellow  breath  of  closing  flow'rs, 
Expiring  in  their  green  leaf  bowers, 
Which  to  the  murmuring  winds  they  gave  ; 

Or  wailing  sigh, 

That  passed  me  by, 
Of  spirit  roving  from  the  grave  ? 

Is  this  the  warning  sound,  which  springs 
From  death's  relentless,  lightning  wings, 


32 

The  signal  to  his  victim  given ; 

Some  echoed  prayer, 

Borne  on  the  air, 
Or  whisper  token  sent  from  heaven  ? 

The  soft  vibrations  now  expire, 

Like  tones  which  breathe  from  Memnon's  lyre, 

Or  like  the  chant  of  some  lone  bird, 

At  solemn  eve, 

Its  dirge  doth  weave, 
And  o'er  the  sepulchre  is  heard  1 

Soul  of  this  life,  it  thus  must  be, 
A  spirit's  chiming  symphony, 
Shall  blend  in  unison  with  thine  ; 

Ere  thou  shalt  meet, 

With  rapture  sweet, 
The  swell  of  golden  harps  divine ! 


THE    LONELY   HOUR 


The  spirit's  drooping  wings  must  fall, 
In  heaviness,  as  once  with  Saul, 
But  who  shall  Israel's  minstrel  bring, 
To  strike  the  harp's  melodious  string  ? 

The  tents  of  Kedar  are  more  fair, 
Than  e'er  the  halls  of  Jacob  were, 
And  sweet  the  song  of  praise  that  thrills 
The  hearts  that  weep  on  Zion's  hills. 

Kind  herald  of  this  silent  hour, 
Descending  with  thy  sceptred  power, 
Thy  astral  robe,  thy  sable  throne, 
And  night  winds  singing  all  alone. 


34 

Life's  watching  angels  ruled  by  thee, 

Forget  the  tone  of  misery, 

Or  lead  us  more  in  calmness  on, 

As  clouds  whose  thunderbolts  are  gone. 

Yet  not  for  thee,  is  it  to  bless 
With  welcome  of  forgetfulness, 
But  now  to  soothe,  and  then  to  pain, 
And  rivet  memory's  iron  chain. 

That  chain,  when  we  its  length  survey, 
Some  linklets  bright  are  torn  away  ; 
But  ah,  enough  are  left  behind. 
To  bind  to  earth  the  willing  mind. 

How  doth  the  vocal  earth  recall, 
Our  exile  lot,  the  fatal  fall ; 
Oh,  well  it  is,  we  here  were  sent, 
To  live,  to  toil  in  banishment. 

Beneath  the  rose's  blushing  breast. 
The  worm  concealed  hath  built  his  nest, 
And  those  fair  leaves  shall  be  the  food, 
To  nurse  a  reptile's  growing  brood. 


35 

Calm  spirit  of  this  lonely  hour, 
Of  solitude  the  charm,  the  power. 
We  learn  when  we  commune  with  thee, 
What  'tis  we  are,  what  we  must  be. 


^ 


THE    PILGRIM'S    PRAYER. 


This  wasting  life,  this  heart  oppressed, 

To  weary,  ceaseless  travail  given ; 
Oh,  when  shall  come  the  balmy  rest. 

The  azure  light  of  heaven  ? 
The  fleeting  harbinger  of  bliss, 

Above  our  pathway  we  descry; 
It  leads  us  to  the  wilderness, 

But  leaves  us  there  to  die. 

The  promised  land,  the  lot  of  all. 

We  toil  and  suffer  to  survey ; 
Yet  how  like  Terah  do  we  fall. 

Whilst  travelling  on  the  way  ? 
Ah  !  give  us  here  at  least  to  see, 

A  prospect  of  the  realms  we  crave ; 
Though  like  to  Pisgah's  view  it  be, 

A  summons  to  the  grave. 


37 

The  Arab  goes  to  Mecca's  shrine, 

And  kneels  to  kiss  a  senseless  stone ; 
Jehovah's  worship  more  divine, 

Comes  from  the  heart  alone.^^> 
And  long  the  journey  we  endure, 

From  rising  youth,  to  ripened  age, 
To  make  our  hold  of  heaven  secure^ 

In  this  our  pilgrimage. 

We  go  with  fearless  heart  to  meet, 

The  foes  that  round  our  footsteps  spring, 
With  bleeding  bosoms,  bleeding  feet, 

To  make  life's  journeying. 
If  thus  our  destiny  be  cast, 

This  wrestling  of  the  soul  arise, 
Be  it  the  Palmer's  lot  at  last. 

To  win  the  crown  and  prize  f 


ESTHER. 


The  monarch  chose  the  brightest  star,^> 

That  eastern  cHrnes  could  own  ; 
A  captive  maiden  from  afar, 

The  partner  of  his  throne. 
Her  lofty  eye,  and  matchless  zone, 
Formed  not  the  theme  of  praise  alone ; 
Far  nobler  were  the  valiant  pride, 
And  daring  of  the  queenly  bride. 

'Twas  her's,  the  warm,  the  impelling  zeal, 

Of  constancy  the  test. 
The  feeblest  of  his  children  feel. 

If  once  they  are  oppressed. 
When  Danger's  frowning  mien  defies, 
Its  own  deliverance  it  supplies  ; 
That  fearless  valour  lights  its  path, 
Which  smote  the  champion  chief  of  Gath. 


39 

The  days  of  Purim  all  may  fail, 
Perpetual  though  designed, 
Yet  what  of  earth  shall  countervail, 

The  heaven  directed  mind? 
But  ah,  the  pride  which  Jacob  bore, 
Shall  ne'er  the  arm  of  strength  restore, 
Must  Israel  ever  weep  alone, 
No  guardian  angel  near  the  throne  ? 

The  Magi  travelling  came  to  view, 
The  light  which  led  them  on, 

It  is  the  same  that  we  pursue, 
Its  lustre  is  not  gone. 

See  how  its  twinkling  beam  appears. 

Effulgent  in  this  vale  of  tears  ; 

And  ne'er  in  ocean  depths  shall  set, 

That  ever  glittering  coronet. 


THE    MORNING    DAWN. 


In  the  twilight  a  radiance  is  streaming  afar, 
On  the  verge  of  the  morning  yet  loiters  its  star, 
There  it  lingers  still  lovely,  ere  its  course  is  yet  run, 
And  it  smiles  on  the  red  curtained  couch  of  the  sun. 

Through  a  pathway  of  clouds  will  his  chariot  be  driven, 
In  the  track  of  his  speed,  the  proud  herald  of  heaven. 
And  the  chambers  of  darkness  will  be  brilliant  and  bright, 
And  worlds  shall  be  blest  with  his  warmth  and  his  light. 

On  the  darkness  within,  will  there  burst  the  full  dawn, 
Ere  life's  cunning  charm  in  its  sweetness  is  gone, 
Ere  the  sound  of  the  grinding  grows  low  at  the  mill, 
And  the  wheel  at  the  cistern  hangs  broken  and  still ! 

The  dew  wind  in  freshness,  springs  up  from  the  dale, 
Above  U3  and  near  us,  rejoicings  prevail. 
With  the  notes  of  the  choir,  which  re-echo  around, 
Let  "the  breath  of  our  faith"  rising  upward  be  found. <^) 


LAZARUS. 


Before  the  tomb  where  Friendship  sleeps, 
The  Saviour  bows — he  bows  and  weeps, 
'Tis  thus  he  mourns  for  those  that  die. 
When  none  to  soothe  or  save  are  nigh. 

What  tenderness  reserved  for  iheey 
Thou  humble  one  of  Bethany ! 
Heaven  never  shone  in  brighter  beam, 
From  Tabor's  mount  or  Jordan's  stream. 

"  Hadst  thou  been  here,  he  had  not  died" — 
What  agony  his  bosom  tried  ! 
On  heaven  he  called,  nor  called  in  vain, 
The  dead  walks  forth  to  life  again. 

His  bands  are  loosed,  and  freed  he  goes       ^ 
To  share  the  world's  unpitied  woes, 
To  feel  the  pangs  that  flesh  must  brave, 
And  find  his  Paradise  the  grave. 
4* 


AGAIN,    AGAIN,    IT    COMES    AGAIN 


Again,  again,  it  comes  again, 

This  silent  touch  of  feeUng"; 
The  clanking  of  the  spirit's  chain, 
The  thriftless  struggles  all  in  vain, 

The  frost  dew  on  me  stealing. 

The  hidden  spell  will  ne'er  depart, 

But  cannot  be  consoling  ; 
This  drop  of  black  blood  in  the  heart,^^) 
It  must,  the  death  pang  must  impart, 

Beyond  our  own  controlling. 

And  is  it  thus,  to  know,  to  feel, 

The  life  of  dust  decaying  ; 
To  stretch  the  bosom's  chords  of  steel,^^^) 
And  though  we  rend  them,  not  reveal 

The  ruin  on  us  preying  ? 


43 

What  is  the  refuge  we  have  sought, 
With  hopes  of  its  composing  ? 

The  fiend-like  joy  of  demon  thought, 
The  manacles  that  it  has  brought, 

The  dungeon  round  us  closing. 

No,  not  again  are  we  e'er  free, 
The  mind  if  once  is  soaring ; 
It  lives  in  bitter  ecstacy, 
While  ever  sadly  we  must  be. 
Our  prison  home  deploring . 


THE    WOMEN    AT    THE    TOMB. 


'Tis  finished,  and  'twas  not  in  vain/^') 

The  temple's  vail  was  rent  in  twain, 

Or  mid-day  darkness  settled  round. 

Or  earthquakes  shook  the  trembling  ground — 

The  golden  beams  of  morn  appear, 

To  gild  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

While  incense  blends  with  morning's  breath, 
They  seek  that  rocky  hold  of  Death ; 
But  vain  will  be  their  pious  care, 
Their  martyred  Master  sleeps  not  there, 
The  stars  that  dawned  upon  his  birth. 
Have  hailed  his  transit  from  the  earth.  (^2) 

Ah,  dost  thou  doubt  if  true  it  fell, 
The  last,  the  crowning  miracle  ? 
With  Cephas  to  the  tomb  repair,^'^) 
It  yawns  upon  the  open  air, 


45 

The  folded  shroud  approves  his  word, 
It  once  arrayed  the  risen  Lord. 

But  lo,  before  their  weeping  eyes, 
The  angels  yet  abiding  rise, 
They  marked  their  silent  tears  and  said, 
"  Ye  seek  the  living  'mongst  the  dead, 
O,  let  his  words  remembered  be, 
Which  once  he  spake  in  Galilee." 

"  Yes  risen,  risen,  seek  him  not. 

In  this  sepulchral,  dreary  spot, 

To  Emmaus  he  goes  to  day,<^'*) 

To  speak  with  travellers  on  the  way, 

Though  noiseless  as  his  footsteps  are, 

Their  burning  hearts  shall  feel  him  there." 


CHRIST    STILLING   THE    TEMPEST. 


'Tis  night,  and  lo,  upon  the  sea, 

The  lone,  dark  sea, 
The  storm  is  howling  fearfully, (^^) 

And  they  upon  the  tossing  wave, 
Whose  hoary  top  breaks  heavily, 
Hark  to  the  wind's  tempestuous  roar, 
And  see  the  beating  deluge  pour. 
But  find  no  arm  outstretched  to  save, 
No  rescue  from  an  awful  grave. 

Earth,  ocean,  heaven,  where,  oh,  where. 

His  refuge  now. 
Fear  stills  the  heart  and  knits  the  brow, 

To  whom  his  safety  shall  prefer, 
When  drear  and  desolate  despair. 

Appals  the  hopeless  mariner  [ 


47 

Peace,  peace,  be  still — be  still  in  peace, 

A  voice  is  heard — 
The  stormy  winds  obey  his  word, 

A  radiance  bursts  forth  from  heaven's  dome, 
And  waters  wild  and  raging,  cease 

To  rise  and  wrestle  in  their  foam. 

Light  of  the  world,  the  light  of  all, 

Beneath  the  skies, 
When  darkened  tempests  shall  befall, 

And  ruin  threatens  to  o'erwhelm, 
'Tis  bliss  to  see  above  us  rise. 

The  beaming  star  of  Bethlehem. 


« 


THE    VALLEY    OF    ACHOR. 


In  the  Valley  of  Achor, 
A  hope  yet  remains  S^^^ 

Jehovah,  our  maker, 
Protects 'and  sustains. 

There  is  beauty  for  ashes, 

For  mourning  is  joy ; 
And  the  cloud-bolt  which  flashes, 

Shall  never  destroy. 

The  deep,  deep  source  of  wo, 
Is  concealed  in  the  breast, 

Yet  beside  it  shall  flow, 
The  sweet  fountain  of  rest. 

Frail  daughters  of  Judah, 
How  vainly  they  mourned ; 


49 

When  for  idols  they  sought, 
And  Jehovah  was  spurned. 

When  for  Tammuz  they  wept, 
And  affliction  they  bore,^^^ 

That  in  darkness  he  slept. 
Iridescent  no  more. 

To  the  God  of  the  Just, 
Our  pure  altars  we  raise  ; 

And  a  spirit  divine, 
Is  the  spirit  we  praise. 

Nought  of  earth  can  control, 
The  impulses  it  brings; 

And  the  bliss  of  the  soul, 
Is  the  light  of  its  wings. 

In  the  Valley  of  Achor, 

A  bright  star-light  shall  fall 

The  ReJeemer,  our  Maker, 
Will  illumine  it  all. 
5 


50 

And  He  will  not  depart, 
Though  the  darkness  bedim 

For  the  lowliest  in  heart, 
Are  the  dearest  to  Hina. 


THE    BLISS    OF    ALLOUR   EARLY 
YEARS. 


The  remembrance  of  youth  is  a  sigh.— Arabian  Provkrb. 


The  bliss  of  all  our  early  years, 

So  undisguised  and  gay, 
The  memory  of  a  dream  appears, 

So  soon  it  flies  away. 
Our  years  decline,  and  hope  displays, 

Its  semblances  in  vain ; 
For  oh,  the  light  of  younger  days, 

N^'er  comes  to  us  again. 

The  holy  choir,  whose  ceaseless  songs, 
Fill  all  the  realms  above ; 

To  them  the  changeless  form  belongs, 
Of  youthfulness  and  love, 


52 

Whilst  here  in  life's  o'erclouded  day, 
The  thought  we  must  endure, 

That  we  were  once  as  bright  as  they, 
As  innocent  and  pure. 


DANIEL'S    PRAYER. 


The  idol-worship  in  the  land, 

Its  votaries  obeyed ; 
And  where  the  Paynim  altars  stand, 

The  homage  vows  are  paid. 
But  one  was  there  who  still  alone, 
Knelt  down  before  the  Holy  One ; 

Though  shouts  of  triumph  rent  the  air/^^) 
The  loud  acclaim,  the  prophet  spurned. 
To  Salem's  banished  towers  he  turned, 

And  fervent  was  his  prayer. 

"  Though  in  a  foreign  clime  we  be, 

And  captive  may  remain  ; 
Our  faith,  Almighty,  is  in  thee, 

To  guide  us  and  sustain, 
God  of  our  fathers  and  our  own, 
Leave  not  thy  people  e'er  alone, 
•5 


54 

Oh,  let  thy  chariot-wheels  appenr; 
Though  Israel  haih  thy  favour  known, 
To  all  the  world  thy  power  is  shown, 

Nor  wanting  is  it  here. 

On  Dura's  plain  the  image  stood, 
Which  nations  bowed  before  ; 
But  where  is  now  the  worshipped  God, 

Or  they  that  did  adore  ? 
The  burning  furnace  could  not  slay, 
The  children  of  the  covenant — they 
Who  bended  knee,  nor  heart  would  yield, 
But  thine  it  was,  thine  own  decree. 
With  beasts  the  Babel  king  should  be, 
His  portion  in  the  field. 

And  when  on  Shinar's  borders  rose. 

The  burst  of  revel  rnirth  ; 
Thine  honor  was  profaned  of  those. 

The  noble  called  of  earth. 
How  did  the  stroke  of  terror  fall, 
As  writing  gleamed  forth  on  the  wall, 

The  letters  from  thy  secret  hand, 


55 

Which  to  the  festal  monarch  came, 
The  glowing  marks  of  light  and  flame, 
The  words  of  thy  command  1 

Here,  where  thy  terrors  were  portrayed, 

Though  none  are  found  to  heed ; 
Let  thy  broad  bann  :rs  bo  displayed, 

Before  the  haughty  Mede. 
Thou  canst  deliver  us  again, 
Canst  rescue  from  the  lion's  den, 

Arid  set  the  guiltless  prisoner  free ; 
Our  refuge — hope — our  happiness. 
Let  cheins  confine,  If^t  foes  oppress, 

In  thee,  we  trust  in  thee." 


WHEN    ON    LIFE'S  DARK    RETURN 
LE  SS    SHORE. 


When  on  life's  dark  returnless  shore, 

We  pause  with  hngering  looks  to  see, 
The  billows  rolling  on  before, 

The  flood-tide  of  eternity  : 
What  startling  visions  then  arise, 
Before  the  dim  and  clouded  eyes, 
The  truths  unseen,  unheard,  untold, 
Which  all  the  living  must  behold. 
But  fear  to  realize! 

The  last  reverted  glance  is  thrown, 
On  all  that  we  have  felt  or  borne : 

The  changeless  truth  appears  alone, 
Of  every  false  illusion  shorn ; 

The  decp'ning  shade,  the  dark  impress, 

The  winding  sheet,  the  burial  dress, 


57 

Mcmoiials  which  avail  to  prove, 

The  riven  cords  of  human  love, 

Our  utter  nothingness. 

The  puloc  is  still,  the  eye  is  closed, 

And  not  a  throb  the  bosom  heaves. 
Where  once  the  livin<^  tiame  reposed, 

But  noH'  the  citadel  it  leaves. 
Bow  down  the  heart — draw  near. 
And  shed  the  pure,  the  holy  tear. 
That  loved  and  cherished  torm  survey- 
What  olTering  have  we  for  this  clay  1 
The  cerement  rube  and  bier. 


IN   THE   SHADOW  OF  EGYPT 
THEY  TRUSTED  IN  VAIN. 


In  the  shadow  of  Egypt  they  trusted  in  vain, 
in  the  strength  ot  the  heathen^the  valiant  were  slain, 
The  gods  that  they  sought,  the  idols  they  made, 
Thy  people,  oh  Lord,  to  confusion  betrayed. 


They  thought  of  the  altars  their  fathers  had  known, 

Whose  incen§e  arose  to  Jehovah's  pure  tl 

And  lone  in  the  land  of  the  stranger,  they' 

O'er  the  vows  pledged  in  Shechem  they  never  had  kept. 


eyHW^ 


The  voice  of  the  prophet,  reproof  of  the  seer, 
Came  down  like  the  terrors  of  death  on  the  ear, 
And  the  sound  of  their  wailing  was  loud  in  despair, 
But  no  ministering  angel  of  Bethel  was  there. 


59 

Shall  the  foes  of  thy  worship  thy  people  pursue? 
Once  more,  oh  Eternal,  thy  covenant  renew ; 
The  broken  in  faith,  shall  thy  vengeance  yet  smite, 
But  the  broken  in  heart  are  still  dear  in  thy  sight. 


SHALL    THEY    WHO     P  4  R  T,    NE'ER 
MEET    AGAIN. 


Shall  they  who  part,  ne'er  m'-et  again, 

In  some  allotted  sphere  ; 
And  there  the  plighted  lo\c  reclaim. 

Which  made  them  happy  hcio? 

We've  fell  when  spirits  fiom  on  high, 
To  us  their  bhss  have  given  ; 

Oh,  then  we've  often  felt  how  nigh 
Our  earth  must  be  to  heaven. 

And  if  they  came,  those  spirits  bright. 

Their  tidings  good  to  trll  ; 
We  too  have  sometimes  I.i'lmi  our  flight, 

To  seek  them  where  they  dwell. 


61 


The  thought  of  being  where  they  are, 
Hath  made  our  bosoms  burn  ; 

And  well  we  know,  when  we  go  there, 
We  will  not  back  return. 


ON    PAT  M  OS'    HOLY     ISLE 


On  Patmos'  holy  isle, 

A  voice  from  heaven  was  heard  ; 
And  worlds  on  worlds  unknown, 

To  mortal  view  appeared. 
And  lo,  their  mysteries, 

All  one  by  one  unroll ; 
And,  like  familiar  things, 

Seem  written  on  a  scroll. 

The  prophet  there  beheld, 

The  vision  of  that  day^ 
When  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky, 

Shall  all  be  swept  away. 
When  dead  and  living — all, 

Their  wailing  notes  shall  pour, 
And  echo  swell  the  sound. 

That  lime  shall  be  no  more. 


63 

Behold  on  Zion's  mount,  - 

The  Lamb  is  seen  again ! 
But  not  the  multitude, 

Who  mocked  when  He  was  slain. 
But  round  the  eternal  throne, 

The  Cherubim  arise  ; 
And  harp  and  voice  proclaim, 

The  anthems  of  the  skies. 

Blessed  herald  of  the  cross, 

The  chosen  and  approved  ; 
The  Saviour's  cherished  friend, 

Whom  looking  on  He  loved: 
Oh,  would  that  like  to  thee, 

The  favour  we  might  share, 
To  view  that  purer  world, 

And  look  in  transport  there  i 


THE    SONG    OF    THE    MARTYRS 


Light  up  the  martyr's  funeral  pile, 

Consume  the  victim  at  the  stake; 
No  murmur  shall  we  breathe  the  while, 

Though  round  us  quenchless  flames  may  break 
For  kindling  up  its  proud  disdain, 
The  soul  will  spurn  the  fiery  pain. 

Oppressors,  who  aspire  to  wield 
The  javelin  of  the  maddened  king  ; 

A  mightier  arm  shall  safely  shield, 
From  all  the  weapons  which  ye  bring. 

The  God  that  watches  o'er  his  own, 

Will  place  the  anointed  on  the  throne. 

If  in  the  flames  we' shall  expire, 
It  is  a  speedier  aid  they'll  lend  ; 


65 

That  in  the  prophet's  car  of  fire, 

To  brighter  worUls  wc  rnay  ascend ; 
And  this  last  sacrifice  we  give, 
To  make  our  faith  increase  and  live.^'^) 

We'll  shrink  not  from  the  burning  brand, 
Though  long  it  agonize  the  heart ; 

But  firm  and  fearless  will  we  stand, 
To  shame  the  apostate's  faithless  part, 

Our's  is  the  sacred  cause  to  claim 

Alone,  the  martyr's  wreath  and  fame.(^) 

These  lingering  pangs  shall  death  suffice — 
The  Christian's  rest,  his  home  of  prayer  j 

In  yon  illumined  Paradise, 

Tis  our's  the  first  to  enter  there, <2i) 

And  earthly  conflicts  we  contemn, 

To  gain  a  starry  diadem. 


6»' 


THE     SPOILER     CAME 

(e  P  I  C  E  D  I  U  M  .) 


The  spoiler  came  at  dead  of  night, 

And  waved  his  baleful  wing ; 
And  see — it  droops  beneath  the  blight, 

The  blossom  of  the  spring ! 
There,  by  the  fountain  low  it  lies, 

Where  once  it  proudly  grew  ; 
But  ah,  no  more  its  petals  rise, 

Fresh  in  the  morning  dew. 
Away  hath  the  Destroyer  flown, 

Whilst  we  the  ruin  view; 
Our  hearts  with  sorrow  bleed  alone, 

He  would  not  slay  them  too. 

We'll  strow  with  flowers  thy  early  tomb, 
Memorials  shall  they  be  ; 


G7 

As  transient  as  their  wasting  bloom, 

Were  all  our  hopes  of  thee. 
Those  flowers  shall  moulder  in  the  dust, 

We  nurture  them  in  vain ; 
Plucked  ere  their  seeds  were  ripe,  they  must 

In  buried  earth  remain. 
But  thou  shalt  thrive  in  life  and  love, 

Nor  brief  shall  be  thy  reign. 
In  those  unchanging  climes  above. 

We  struggle  to  regain. 

Where  thy  unprisoned  spirit  flies. 

Where  sinless  seraphs  live ; 
If  there,  our  murmuring  voice  shall  rise. 

Let  Mercy's  smile  forgive. 
The  human  love  that  vainly  errs, 

In  its  response  to  thine, 
Since  heaven  unto  its  truth  avers, 

It  something  seems  divine. 
The  impulse  of  that  life  desire, 

We  cherish  and  refine  ; 
We  feel  the  kindling  of  its  fire, 

Though  dimly  here  it  shine. 


68 

There's  one  on  whom  our  hope  is  stayed, 

Our  tears  shall  fall  no  more ; 
And  lovely  is  the  valley  made, 

Where  He  hath  gone  before. 
No  longer  are  his  garments  red, 

Though  once  in  Bozrah  dyed ; 
No  longer  droops  the  holy  head, 

Or  bleeds  the  wounded  side  ; 
But  risen  to  the  realms  of  light, 

Enthroned  and  glorified, 
Where  yonder  tuneful  spheres  invite. 

With  thee,  we  would  abide. 


POTESTAS     DEI 


Deus  est  sinus  quidani  naturcc,  in  seii)so,  coniineiis  omnia. 

Lactantic: 


Above,  around,  within,  abroad, 

Is  felt  the  presence  of  our  God ! 

The  heaven  of  heavens  his  throne  on  high, 

And  earth  is  cradled  in  the  sky. 

Oh,  should  we  on  the  morning  wind, 

Far  as  it  sweeps  repair  ; 
x\nd  trace  each  dim  and  viewless  sphere, 

That  wheeleth  through  the  air: 
Or  seek  the  place  v/here  darkness  hides, 
Or  search  the  depths  of  ocean's  tides, 
Thy  hand,  Eternal,  we  should  find, 

To  hold  us  every  where. 
The  sea,  the  air,  the  stars  that  shine 

In  night's  illumined  path ; 
Are  emblems  of  thy  power  divine. 

Or  ministers  of  wrath. 


70 

The  offspring  of  the  race  are  we, 

Thy  judgments  overthrew ; 
O,  shield  us  from  thy  vengeance,  God, 

Nor  let  it  strike  anew ! 

We  gaze  upon  the  rolling  clouds, 
Which  not  a  shade  of  terror  shrouds, 
Though  from  them  once  the  torrents  came, 
And  thunder-bolt  and  lightning  flame, 
O'er  whelmed  the  world  below  : 
To  us  they  now  serenely  glow, 
And  glitter  with  the  covenant  bow. 
The  sun  that  rules  the  subject  orbs,       ^ 

Himself  subjection  feels ; 
On  Gibeon,  in  the  battle  hour, 

He  stops  his  burning  wheels ; 
Whilst  warring  hosts  their  standards  rear, 
And  wield  the  flashing  sword  and  spear, 
Till  moonbeams  shed  their  mellow  light 
Upon  the  fallen  Amorite ! 

Jehovah,  often  is  thine  arm, 

Thy  holy  arm,  made  bare. 
To  rescue  from  impending  harm, 

The  people  of  thy  care. 


71 

For  them,  e'er  since  "  creation's  dawn," 
Each  work  of  thine  is  meant ; 
And  when  beneath  Oppression's  hand, 
They  suffer  in  a  stranger's  land, 

And  each  last  lingering  hope  is  gone — 
Deliverance  is  sent. 
Thy  mercies,  never  ceasing,  rise 
Like  stars  which  light  the  boundless  skies, 
Thine  everlasting  realm : 
Or  like  the  drops  which  fill  the  sea^ 
Or  years  which  build  eternity. 
We  cannot  number  them. 

The  water  streams  from  Horeb's  rock, 

The  fire  descendeth  like  the  rain ; 
The  altars  at  thy  presence  smoke, 

The  sea  and  rivers  cleft  in  twain, 
I  hear  a  rush  of  armed  steeds, 
And  foes  that  march  to  martial  deeds, 
And  shout  they  many  an  impious  word, 
Who  dare  to  battle  with  the  Lord  ! 
O,  Egypt,  was  it  all  in  vain, 
Thou  wept'st  thy  elder  offspring  slain, 


72 

And  felt  the  wrath  of  heaven,  that  sped 
Its  vengeance  on  thy  guilty  head  ? 
Thy  warriors  go,  and  leave  behind, 

Too  many  who  will  weep ; 
And  pour  their  wailing  on  the  wind, 
And  curse  the  treacherous  deep, 
But  pray  that  its  high  watery  wall, 
Might  overwhelm  them  in  its  fall  I 
And  hark,  a  sound  of  joy  is  sent, 
O'er  the  victorious  element ! 
'Tis  Israel's  flushed,  exulting  ranks,- 
That  crowd  the  red  sea's  sloping  banks, 
And  through  their  tents,  loud,  clear,  and  free- 
Floats  Miriam's  song  of  jubilee. 
O,  could  they  in  their  triumph  boast, 

A  fond,  perspective  glance; 
And  see  each  future,  hostile  host, 

Thus  fall  as  they  advance, 
The  Canaan  in  his  mountain  hold  : 

Or  Syrians  in  their  might. 
Bestrow  the  damp  ground,  dead  and  cold, 

Whilst  under  arms  at  night — 
Their  hymns  of  praise  would  higher  swell. 
And  loader  tones  of  gladness  tell. 


73 

Almighty,  changeless  evermore, 

All  time,  and  space,  and  power  in  Thee  ; 
Whom  all  acknowledge  and  adore, 

But  none  can  know  or  see, 
"The  mind,  the  heart,  our  feeble  sense, 
Bow  down  to  thine  Omnipotence ! 
The  solemn  awe,  that  Israel  felt. 

Our  heaving  bosoms  feel. 
When  tribe  by  tribe,  they  lowly  knelt, 

And  heard  the  thunder's  peal ; 
And  gazing  up  from  Sinai's  base, 
Beheld  the  veiling  of  thy  face. 
And,  ah,  it  were  a  glorious  sight, 

Which  other  days  afford. 
To  look  on  Carmel's  holy  height. 
And  hail  the  prophet's  heaven-ward  flight, 

The  chariot  of  the  Lord  : 
And  in  its  wake  of  fire  and  light, 
To  mark  what  proof  of  lasting  love, 
Is  left  us,  as  it  mounts  above. 
To  us,  to  us,  there's  many  a  pledge, 

And  lively  token  given. 
To  call  our  thoughts  away  from  earth, 
And  lift  them  up  to  heaven. 
,     7 


74 

Retrace  the  course  of  ages  buck, 

tleflect  on  their  crreer  : 
What  emblems  brighten  in  their  track, 

What  mighty  deeds  appear ; 
What  vows  were  made,  what  aUars  built, 
To  purchase  pardon  for  our  guilt ! 
Time  was  when  all  was  darkness  here, 

No  glowing  hopes  the  prospect  crossed, 
And  when  the  young,  the  infant  world, 

Gave  signs  of  wo  that  all  was  lost. 
Then,  on  the  ruined  and  betraj^ed, 

Celestial  visions  beamed ; 
The  promises  of  heaven  were  made, 

And  are  they  not  redeemed  ? 
Yes,  o'er  Judea's  pastoral  plain, 
Resounds  the  loud,  triumphant  strain, 
Sweeter  than  notes  divinely  flung, 
From  David's  minstrel  strings: 
Or  seraph  song,  when  softly  sung. 

By  angels  on  their  wings. 
Oh,  well  it  is  that  they  rejoice. 
The  heavenly  host  of  morn ; 
And  lisp  creation's  merry  voice. 
The  Promised  One  is  born. 


76 

Behold,  the  "wise  men"  come  lo  greet, 
And  yield  their  homaf^e  at  His  feet — 
With  them  we  kneel,  with  them  we  bow, 
Our  humbler  praise  to  offer  now. 
An  J  join  that  choir,  whose  song  shall  be, 
A  deep,  eternal  melody. 

Ah,  ye,  whom  vain  allurements  please, 

Or  dark  and  guilty  pissions  guide ; 
Who  tread  the  flowery  paths  of  ease. 

Or  nurse  a  heart  of  scorn  and  pride — 
Are  there  no  truths  for  ye  to  learn, 

No  cherished  hopes  to  move  : 
No  zeal,  to  make  your  bosoms  burn, 

With  rapture  and  with  love  ? 
Let  Pleasure  pander  to  your  will, 

Corrupt,  debase,  conceal ; 
Yet  Conscience  is  undying  still, 

And  forces  us  to  feel 
Q,uench  not  its  light,  its  vivid  glow, 
Is  the  best  sense  of  heaven  we  know. 

Roll  back  ye  mighty  waves  of  time. 
Ye  surges  be  repelled ; 


76 

And  bear  me  to  those  scenes  sublime, 

Solyma  once  beheld : 
And  let  my  meditations,  be 
On  Bethlehem  and  Gethsemane. 
The  Saviour  comes  but  not  in  pride, 
With  thousands  marshalled  at  his  side, 
He  comes  alone,  in  lowliness, 
To  soothe,  to  heal,  to  save,  to  bless, 
To  teach  vain  man  the  world  was  trod, 
By  Nature's  Child,  and  Nature's  God. 
He  holds  the  keys  of  life  and  death, 
And  stills  the  tempest  with  his  breath, 
The  King  supreme  of  kings  is  He, 
The  Everlasting  Deity ! 
Creation  owns  his  sovereign  sway, 
And  proves  the  Power,  we  disobey. 
For  Him  is  reared  no  lofty  throne, 

No  diadem  adorns  ; 
Alone,  He  treads  the  earth  alone. 

His  coronal  of  thorns. 
Ye  stars  that  shouted  at  his  birth, 
I  hear  no  more  your  joyous  mirth  ; 
The  gladdening  sounds  that  once  were  sent, 
From  the  bright  chrystal  firmament. 


77 

But  noon-day  darkness  shrouds  the  skies, 
And  earthquakes  rend  the  guilty  earth. 
The  living  quake,  the  dead  arise  : 
What  mean  these  dreadful  agonies? — 
'Tis  done,  the  unholy  work  is  done, 
Oh,  God,  behold  thy  martyred  son, 
On  Calvary  He  dies  1 1 


X  0  T  E  S 


(1)  But  vkere  Me  ^t/ocd  im  pe-meire  wa. 
Went  dexltimsd  yd  to  ^immd^ 
BatAaUoBS  ofikt  arwucdfot^ 
Tb  sweep  kerjrmm,  the  iamd. 
The  place  wbem  oar  Saviour  stood  am.  IIk  maaat.  and  wept  over 
JcnBakm,  wasdiesuiiespiAtDwinc^lientiiedtopEijmhiBagoaj 

tbe  pcenooB  iraiaeL  It  wasondwsaiKipit,  afan,  that  tfaearBjof 
TUm,  die  Boman  EoipenK,  pUcfaed  tfaor  teals,  wioi  thej  came 
a^UMt  tfce  bofy  dij  to  destnj.iL 

il  k  lonikaliie,  diat  tiK  aeeoMd  tenffe,  oi^iiia%  bolt  %  Zend»- 
tobei  after  the  capliiity,  and  snhHBHttemly  npained  li^  Qeiiod,  ^oold 
baicbecn  denofieiied,  A.  D.  13,  on  tke  sai 
daj  offbe  nMBth,  dnt  the  fiEHt^or  Sobnan^'s ' 
to  the  gnnmd  fay  die  BahflouanL 

F.  Banie's  .faCrorfwtira,  toL  u.  ppu  238-31. 


(2)  TUm  dtf  mfOe  ekatemJmU, 
The  pride  ^brmd's  knm. 
Tke  devotad  attnefanait  and 
lMHdi>  and  the  holy  atj,  are  thns  drsirrihwd  fay 

"Bod&dw  first  i 
wididKh^^ 
tenple  and  Sat  JcmsaleB,  widan  whose  walk  it 


BabyioDBhcapliiiiyi  and  of  their  ptofiiandvcaaationfiv  die ; 
temfle,  we  have  repeated  min|iirff  in  the  ICcw  TedtaneaL    TVey 


80 

it.  The  least  injurious  slight  of  it,  real  or  apprehended,  instantly 
awakened  all  the  choler  of  a  Jew,  and  was  an  affront  never  'o  l>e  for- 
given. Our  Saviour,  in  the  course  of  his  public  instructions,  hap- 
pening to  say,  '  Destroy  this  temple,  and  in  thrre  days  I  will  raise  it 
again,'  it  was  construed  into  a  contemptuous  disrespect,  d.  signedly 
thrown  out  against  the  temple  :  his  words  instantly  descended  into 
the  heart  of  a  Jew,  and  kept  ranklijig  there  for  several  years  :  for 
upon  his  trial,  this  declaration,  which  it  was  impossible  for  a  Jew 
ever  to  forgive  or  to  forget,  was  immediately  alleged  against  him  as 
big  with  the  most  atrocious  guilt  and  impiety  ;  they  told  the  court 
they  heard  him  publicly  assert,  I  am  able  to  destroy  this  temple. 
The  rancour  and  virulence  they  had  conceived  against  him,  lor  this 
speech,  which  they  imagined  had  been  levelled  against  the  temple, 
was  not  softened  by  all  the  aiiecting  circunjstances  of  that  excrucia-' 
ting  and  wretched  death,  they  saw  him  die :  even  on  the  cross,  with 
infinite  triumph,  scorn  and  exultation,  they  upbraided  him  with  it, 
contemptuously  shaking  their  heads  and  saying,  '  Thou  that  destroy- 
est  the  temple  and  bulkiest  it  in  three  days,  save  thyself  If  thou  be 
the  son  of  God,  come  down  from  the  cross.'  " 

Home,  vol.  iii.  p.  232. 

(3)  We've  found  thee  in  the  temple  where 
Thou  canst  not  go  astray. 

The  Jews  throughout  the  country  were  in  the  habit  of  repairing  ta 
Jerusalem,  to  celebrate  the  great  festivals,  such  as  the  passovtr,  the 
feast  of  the  pcntecost,  and  the  feast  of  the  tabernacles.  For  greater 
security,  however,  against  the  attacks  of  robbers  on  the  roud,  they 
used  to  travel  in  large  companies  ;  those  who  came  from  the  same 
city,  canton,  or  district,  forming  a  party  of  themselves. 

They  carried  necessaries  along  with  them,  and  tents  for  lodging  at 
night.  It  was  among  such  a  company  that  Joseph  and  Mary  ^sought 
Jesus  Christ.  This  account  of  the  Israelites  mode  of  travelling,  fur- 
nishes a  ready  answer  to  the  q^uestion,  how  Joseph  and  Rjary  could 
make  a  day's  journey,  without  discovering  before  night  that  Jesus  was- 
not  in  the  "  company."  In  the  day  time,  as  circumstances  might 
lead  them,  the  travellers  would  probably  mingle  with  their  friends 
and  acquaintance,  but  in  the  evening,  when  they  were  about  to  en- 
camp, every  one  would  join  the  family  to  which  he  belonged. 


81 

As  Jesus  di4  not  appear,  when  it  was  growing  late,  his  parents 
first  sought  him,  where  they  supposed  he  would  probably  be  found, 
among  his  relatives  and  acquaintances,  and  not  linding  him,  returned 
to  Jerusalem. 

V.  Home's  Introduc.  and  CampbeWs  Translation  of  the  Gospels. 

(4)  The  clouds  of  terror  Sinai  wore, 

Rest  not  on  Judah's  mountain's  brow. 
.  Henry,  in  his  Commentary  on  the  Bible,  introduces  the  subject  of 
our  Saviour's  sermon  (Matt.   5,)  by   a  singular  periphrasis.     This 
chapter,  says  he,  commences  with  a  sermon,  a  famous  sermon,  the 
sermon  on  the  mount. 

In  the  gospel  dispensation,  the  mountain  on  which  our  Saviour 
preached  his  divine  discourse,  may  be,  as  the  commentator  above 
mentioned  observes,  contradistinguished  from  Mount  Sinai,  where 
the  people  were  kept  at  a  distance ;  here  they  were  invited  to  draw 
near  without  distinction.  It  lay  to  the  north  of  Mount  Tabor,  and 
is  sometimes  called  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes.  The  mountains  of 
Gilboa,  where  the  forces  of  Saul  were  defeated  and  himself  slain,  are  in 
the  vicinity. 

From  the  beautiful  allusion  our  Saviour  makes  to  the  lilies 'of  the 
field,  the  season  of  the  year,  when  this  sermon  was  put  forth,  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  the  spring. 

(5)  A  voice  was  trembling  in  my  ear, 
Even  now  its  dying  note  I  hear, 
It  lingers  yet  but  silently. 
The  horologe  of  death,  is  supposed  to  be  an  insect.     The  French 
call  it  vrillette  from  the  circumstance  of  its  boring  into  wood. 

"  Les  vrillettes  vivent  dans  I'interieur  des  maisons,  et  leur  larves 
ddvorent  les  boiseries,  les  meubles,  les  poutres,  les  solives,  et  percent 
les  bois  en  y  faisant  une  multitude  de  petits  trous  ronds.  C'est  a  une 
vrillette  qu'on  attribue  ce  petit  bruit  singulier  qu'on  appellc  horo- 
loge de  la  mort,  et  qu'on  entend  souvent  le  soir  dans  les  apartemens." 

L'Listinct  des  Animaux. 

The  horologe,  or  death-watch,  is  a  species  of  solitary  Termites. 
(Termcs  Pulsatorium  Linn.)  or  (Atropos  lignarius,  Leach.)  It  lives 
in  old  books,  the  paper  on  walls,  collections  of  insects,  and  dried  plants, 


82 


and  is  extremely  agile  in  its  movements,  darting  by  jerks  inio  dark 
corners  for  the  purpose  of  concealment.  It  does  not  like  to  run  straight 
forward,  without  resting  every  half  second,  as  if  to  listen  or  look 
about  for  its  pursuer,  and  at  such  restiiiir  times  it  is  easily  taken. 

iThe  ticking  noise  is  made  b,-  the  insect  beating  against  the  wood, 
with  its  head,  and  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  peculiar  to  the  fiuiale, 
and  to  be  connected  with  the  laying  of  her  eggs. 

Another  death-watch  is  a  small  beetle,  called  in  ontology  '  Ano- 
bium  Tesselatum." 

Library  Enter.  Kiiowl. 

(6)  The  Arab  goes  to  Mecca^s  shrine, 

And  kneels  to  kiss  a  senseless  stone, 
Jehovah's  wurship,  more  divine, 
Comes/rom  the  heart  alone. 

The  superstitions  of  the  Mahomedan  religion  are  currently 
known,  and  it  may  be  scarcely  worth  while  to  mention,  tl  at  the 
Caaba  alluded  to  in  this  verse,  is  a  square  stone  edifice  in  the  temple 
of  Mecca.  The  Mahometans  say  that  this  buililing  was  first  erect- 
ed by  Adam,  from  the  model  of  one  thnt  he  had  seen  in  Paradise. 
Subsequently  to  Adam's  death,  they  assert  that  another  buikling  of 
the  same  kind,  made  of  stones  and  clay,  was  erected  by  Seth,  Eut  as 
this  was  destroyed  by  the  Hood,  they  maintain  also,  that  Abraham 
and  Ishmael  were  instructed  by  divine  providence  to  rebuild  it  in  the 
same  place  where  it  first  stood. 

In  the  Caaba  is  ''  the  black  stone,"  so  celebrated  among  the  Ma- 
hometans, and  which  is  regarded  as  an  object  of  worship  by  the 
Arab  pilgrims.  This  stone  is  set  in  silver,  and  fixed  in  the  roatheasl 
corner  of  the  building,  or  that  which  looks  towards  Basra,  about  two 
cubits  and  one  third,  or  seven  spans  from  the  ground.  The  Mo-'ems 
pretend  that  it  \vas  one  of  the  precious  stones  of  Paradise,  and  that  it 
fell  down  to  the  earth  with  Adam,  and  being  taken  up  a;4ain,  or 
otherwise  preserved  at  the  Deluge,  the  angel  Gabri<  I  afterwards 
brought  it  back  to  Abraliain,  when  he  was  building  the  Caaba. 

It  was  at  first,  according  to  their  account,  whiter  than  snow,  but 
became  black  by  the  sins  of  mankind,  or  rather  by  the  touehi  s  and 
kis.ses  of  so  many  people,  the  surface  only  leing  black,  ;.nd  the  inte- 
rior parts  remaining  still  white. 

Rccs^  Cyclop.,  Art    Caaba. 


83 


(7)  The  monarch  chase  the  brightest  star, 
That  taslern  climes  could  own. 
The  Jewish  name  of  the  niece  of  Mordecai,  was  "  Hadasseh." 
Aftci  she  was  preferred  to  the  throne  of  Persia,  she  was,  on  account 
of  h«^r  beauty,  called  "  Esther,"  which  signifies,  in  the  Persian  lan- 
guage, a  star.  The  same  word  runs  through  various  languages;  in 
the  Greek,  "  ajpuf,"  in  tlie  Latin,  "astruni."-  Tlie  English  name 
Hester,  has  obviously  the  same  origin. 

(8)  "  With  the  notes  of  the  choir,  ichich  re-echo  around, 

Let  the  '  breath  of  our  faith,'  rising  upward  befound.^' 

Legh  Richmond  calls  prayer  the  breath  of  faith.  See  the  Life  of 
Lcgli  Richmond,  one  of  the  brightest  and  most  distinguished  exam- 
ples of  devotedness  and  zeal  that  adorns  the  annals  of  the  church. 

(9)  Th  is  drop  of  black  blood  in  the  heart, 
It  must,  the  death  pang  must,  impart, 

Beyond  our  own  controlling. 
The  Mahometans,  it  is  said,  believe  that  there  is  a  drop  of  black 
blood  in  the  heart,  which,  poisoning  the  stream  of  life  at  its  fountain 
head,  occasions  all  our  misery  whilst  living,  and  ultimately  produces 
our  death. 

(10)  To  stretch  the  bosoms  chords  of  steel, 
And  though  we  rend  them,  <^c. 


-and  hearts  with  strings  of  steel 


Grow  soft  as  sinews  of  the  new-born  babe. 

Shakspeare. 

(11)  ^  Tis  finished,  and  'twas  not  in  vain. 
The  temple's  vail  was  rent  in  twain. 
This  emphatic  expression,  which  the  Redeemer  uttered  at  the  cru- 
cifixion, is  here  applied  to  the  resurrection. 

On  these  words,  Home  remarks  that  volumes  might  be  written. 

(12)  The  stars  that  dawned  upon  }iis  birth, 
Hare  hailed  his  transit  from,  the  earth. 
The  exact  time  of  our  Saviour's  rising  from  the  tomb  is  not  known. 
The  Jews  said  that  he  was  stolen  away  in  the  night-time,  and  one  of 


84 


the  Evangelists  observes,  that  such  was  the  current  report  among 
them  at  his  day.  The  expression  used  above,  inipUcs  a  conjecture, 
that  the  time  of  the  resurrection  corretjpondtd  to  that  of  the  birth,  and 
that  the  morning  stars,  which  sang  together  when  he  was  born,  also 
appeared  again,  and  saluted  his  happy  return  to  the  regions  of  the 
blessed, 

(13)  Ah,  dost  thou  doubt,  if  true  it  fell, 
The  last  the  crouning  miracle, 
M'ith   Cephas  to  the  tomb  repair, 
It  yauns  upon  the  open  air. 

The  intense  interest,  eagerness  and  surprise,  manifested  by  Mary 
Magdalen  and  the  apostles  Peter  and  John,  when  they  were  made 
aware  of  the  ascent,  or  rather  the  disappearance  of  the  Saviour  from 
the  sepulchre,  are  described  with  much  beauty  and  simplicity  by  the 
apostle  St.  John,  who  was  himself  a  participator  in  what  he  writes. 
The  tender  solicitude  and  love  of  Mary,  are  forcibly  set  forth  by  the 
circumstance  of  her  being  the  first  "  at  early  morn"  to  go  and  watch 
over  the  grave  of  her  divine  and  lamented  master. 

"  The  first  day  of  the  week  cometh  Mary  Magdalen  early,  when 
it  was  yet  dark,  into  the  sepulchre,  and  seeth  the  stone  taken  away 
from  the  sepulchre. 

Then  she  runneth,  and  cometh  to  Simon  Peter,  and  to  the  other 
disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,  and  saith  unto  them,  They  have  taken 
away  the  Lord  out  of  the  sepulchre,  and  wc  know  not  where  they 
have  laid  him. 

Peter  therefore  went  forth,  and  that  other  disciple,  and  came  to 
the  sepulchre. 

So  they  ran  both  together,  and  the  other  disciple  did  outrun  Peter, 
and  came  first  to  the  sepulchre," 

John  XX.  1-4. 

(14)  Yes  risen,  risen,  seek  him  not, 
In  this  sepulchral  dreary  spot, 
To  FJmviaus  he  goes  to-day, 

To  speak  with  travellers  on  the  tray. 

The  Saviour  first  appeared  in  the  world  at  a  public  inn,  the  scene 

of  his  birth,  and  after  his  resurrection  his  first  appearance  was  in   a 

public  road.     Without  endeavoring  to  refine  upon  the  interpretation 

of  scripture,  the  suggestion  may  be  allowed,  that  our   Saviour's  ap- 


85 

pearing  first  in  the  open  roaJ,  would  seem  to  indicate,  in  conformity 
with  many  circumstances  which  transpired  during  his  stay  on  earth, 
and  many  of  his  previous  observations  and  injunctions,  that  the  sub- 
ordinate distinctions  in  regard  to  the  redemption  of  mankind,  were 
now  entirely  removed,  and  that  the  means  of  salvation  were  placed 
within  the  reach  of  all,  and  were  to  be  obtained  by  those  that  sought 
them. 

(15)  'Tis  night,  and  lo!  upon  the  sea, 
The  lone,  dark  sea, 
The  storm  is  h oul in g fearfully. 
In  the  Hebrew  phraseology,  the  name  "  sea"  is  applied  indiscrimi- 
nately to  any  large  body  of  water.     It  was  on  the  lake  of  Genesareth 
that  our  Saviour  performed  the  miracle  of  walking  upon  the  water. 
This  lake  was  also  called  the  sea  of  Galilee,  the  sea  of  Chennereth, 
(Numb,  xxxiv.  2.)  or  Cinneroth,  (Josh.  xii.  3.)  and  the  sea  of  Tibe- 
rias, (John  vi.  1.  and  xxi.  1.)  Home. 

(16)  In  the  VaUey  of  Achor, 
A  hope  yet  remains. 

Achor  is  the  Hebrew  word  for  trouble.  Hence  the  Prophet  Hosea, 
in  speaking  of  the  idolatry  of  the  people,  and  of  their  reconciliation 
with  heaven,  says, 

"  Therefore,  behold,  I  will  allure  her,  and  bring  her  into  the  wil- 
derness, and  speak  comfortably  unto  her." 

"  And  I  will  give  her,  her  vineyards  from  thence,  and  the  Valley 
of  Achor  for  a  door  of  hope."  Hosea  xi,  14-15. 

The  valley  where  Achan  was  stoned,  gave  rise  to  this  name  of 
Achor.  It  was  so  called  on  account  of  the  trouble  that  through  him 
was  brought  upon  the  children  of  Israel.  Vide  Josh.  vii.  26. 

(17)  When  for  Tammuz  they  reept, 
And  affliction  they  bore, 
That  in  darkness  He  slept, 
Iridescent  no  more. 
The  idol  for  which  the  Jewish  women  sat  weeping  at  the  north 
gate  of  the  temple,  was  an  Egyptian  Deity,  the  same  as  the  Adonis 
of  the  Phenicians  and  Syrians, 
In  a  wild  and  speculative  work,  called  "  Mythological  Astronomy," 
8 


80 


it  is  asserted  that  the  sun  is  meant  in  the  interpretation  of  this  pas- 
sage of  Ezckicl.  But  it  is  not  probable  that  the  sun  is  alluded  to ;  if 
so,  it  would  not  be  spoken  of  literally  in  one  verse,  and  afterwards, 
in  the  next  verse  or  two,  figuratively.  Vide  Ezek.  viii.  13-lG. 

An  ancient  Rabbi  says,  that  Tammuz  was  an  idol  of  brass,  whose 
eyes  the  pagans  used  to  fill  with  lead ;  then  making  a  fire  in  the  hol- 
low parts  of  the  idol,  the  lead  would  melt,  and  the  image  secmtos?hcd 
tears.  St.  Jerome  has  rendered  Tammuz  by  Adonis:  and  there  is 
great  probability  tbat  this  is  the  true  signification  of  it.  The  word 
Amrauz,  which  is  the  same  as  Tammuz,  signifies  absiru&c  or  con- 
cealed. The  manner  of  construction  of  the  Hebrew  text  of  Ezekiel, 
gives  reason  to  judge  that  Tammuz  is  put  in  an  appellative  sense. 
But  nothing  can  agree  better  with  Adonis,  than  the  epithet  secret  or 
hidden,  whether  we  consider  that  secrecy  and  obscurity,  in  which 
his  mystcriei*  were  involved,  or  the  condition  in  which  he  was  repre- 
sented during  the  festival.  He  was  put  into  a  cofiln,  and  lamented 
over  as  if  dead.  Moses,  in  some  places,  calls  him  the  dead,  by  way 
of  derision.  Lastly,  the  circumstance  of  women  bewailing  Tammuz, 
has  determined  the  greatest  part  of  commentators  to  explain  these 
passages  of  Ezekiel  by  the  Feasts  of  Adonis. 

Don  Calmct.,  Art.  Tammuz. 

(18)  Though  shouts  of  triumph  rent  the  air, 
The  loud  acclaim  the  prophet  spurned, 
To  Salcvis  burnished  towers  he  turned, 
And  fervent  was  his  prayer. 
The  Jews  were  in  the  habit  of  turning  towards  Jerusalem  when 
they  prayed.     In  imitation  of  this  custom,  Mahomet  taught  his  fol- 
lowers to  turn  towards  Me(;ca  when  olfering  up  their  prayers. 

The  firmness  of  Daniel,  and  his  uncompromising  spirit  of  piety 
during  his  captivity,  when  he  was  exposed  to  the  most  imminent 
danger  and  temptation,  are  thus  described  in  Holy  Writ. 

"  Now  when  Daniel  knew  that  the  writing  was  signed,  he  went 
into  his  house;  and  his  windows  berug  open  in  his  chamber  toward 
Jerusalem,  he  kneeled  upon  his  knees  three  times  a  day  and  prayed, 
and  gave  thanks  before  his  God,  as  he  did  aforetime." 

Daniel  vi.  10. 


87 

(19)  And  this  last  sacrifice  ve  give  ^ 

To  viake  our  faith  increase  and  lite. 

Allusion  i,  here  m«de  to  the  cxpr«aon  f-l-""^  "'"=  '  J";; ^X" 
or  author  of  whu-h  I  an,  unacquam.eJ  with-"  The  blood  of  the  mar 
tyrs  is  the  seed  of  the  Church." 

t20)  Ours  is  the  sacred  cause  to  claim 

Alone,  the  martyrs  wreath  and  fame, 
The  Christian  rclicrion  alone,  has  been  distinguished -by  martyrs. 
ThetgenuuTof  -ne  wrUer.  has  been  exercised  in  vam  to  prove 
the  contrary. 

(21)  In  yon  illumined  Paradise, 

'  Tis  ours  the  first  to  enter  there. 
It  was  believed  in  the  early  periods  of  Christianity,  tha^-^;^-^ 
surrection,  the  martyrs  were  entitled  to  precedence  of  all  other  Chris- 
tians, and  entered  into  heaven  before  them. 


-MISCELLANEOUS, 


FUTURITY 


Breve  et  irreparabile  tcmpus, 
Omnibus  est  vilae.— 


'Tis  dcirkness  all  that  lies  beyond 

The  vivid  soul's  enli^ht'ning  ray  : 
And  reason,  boaslingly  profound, 

Is  night-fall  on  the  closing  day. 
We  stand  upon  a  rocky  steep, 

Where  sky,  and  winds,  and  waves,  are  free 
But  looking  round,  we  fear  to  leap 

Into  our  own  eternity  ! 

There  is  a  height  we  cannot  reach, 

And  worlds  we  cannot  bound  : 
And  truths  the  mind  we  cannot  teach, 

And  depths  of  sea  we  cannot  sound. 
All  that  we  know,  and  all  we  feel, 

Enkindles  hopes,  enlivens  fears. 


92 

Those  strokes  of  Time,  which  wake  the  peal, 
That  breaks  the  silence  of  our  years. 

The  voice  within — the  language  mute, 

Whose  sound  we  cannot  chase  away ; 
Whose  truth  no  reasoning  can  refute, 

Though  reason  oft  may  disobey, 
Say,  does  it  teach  us  more  of  dread, 

The  dread  of  pain,  the  dread  of  death, 
Than  bliss  from  that  great  Fountain  head, 

Whence  life  first  drew  its  vital  breath  ? 

Why  should  the  mind  delight  to  soar, 

And  feel,  it  is  a  true  delight  ? 
The  mazes  that  it  would  -explore, 

Deride  the  weakness  of  its  flight. 
And  why  enraptured  should  we  gaze 

On  visions  that  we  form  above, 
The  brilliance  of  whose  starry  blaze, 

Bedims  the  hght  of  human  love  ? 

The  idle  bird  his  sport  doth  urge, 
His  fleet  wing  in  the  water  dips : 


93 

Though  on  the  shore  loud  rolls  the  surge, 
Where  ocean  frotheth  at  her  lips. 

Oh,  could  we  wake  from  slumbering  dreams, 
Our  apprehensions  drive  away  ; 

We'd  be  as  careless  as  he  seems, 
And  live  as  happy  and  as  gay. 

The  earth  is  crumbhng  at  our  feet, 

And  clouds  are  dark  above  our  head  ; 
The  waters  with  the  waters  meet, 

And  time  is  fleeting,  and  has  fled. 
PfO£frnssinn,  ruin,  and  decay, 

And  years  with  deep  repentance  rife, 
And  senses  mouldering  all  away 

If  this  be  living,  what  is  life  ? 


r  () 


A    LADY    BLUSHING 


Those  features  bathed  in  crimson  dyes! 
'Twas  but  the  flash  of  radiant  e^^es — 
'Tis  just  that  thou  should' st  feel  in  turn, 
The  flames  with  which  all  others  burn. 

It  fades  away,  but  richer  grace, 
Beams  o'er  its  brief  abiding  place ; 
Ah,  'twas  a  double  fire  you  drew, 
At  once  to  dazzle  and  subdue, 


FOREBODINGS, 


The  ocean  heaveth  from  below, 

Ere  yet  the  storm  pervades : 
And  deeper  do  the  shadows  grow, 

Ere  come  the  evening  shades. 
And  awful  is  the  murmur  heard, 

Upon  the  battle  plain  ; 
Before  the  clash  of  spear  and  sword, 

And  groaning  of  the  slain. 

The  sunset  glow  lights  up  the  sky, 
On  purple  folds  unfurled  ; 

Ere  yet  the  starry  lamps  on  high, 
Beam  out  upon  the  world. 

And  mark  again,  the  crimson  dawa 
Is  brilliant  in  display  : 


yu 

When  the  twinkhng  orbs  are  all  withdrawn, 
The  harbinger  of  day. 

Breathes  not  the  deep,  the  silent  sigh, 

Ere  Hope  has  yet  departed  ; 
To  warn  us  that  warm  love  can  die, 

And  leave  us  broken-hearted  ? 
And  are  there  not,  the  tone,  the  look, 

The  frowning  brow's  dark  token, 
Which  Friendship  may  no  longer  brook, 

Ere  all  its  ties  are  broken  ? 

Oh,  weeps  there  not  the  willow  tree, 

Beside  the  meadow  stream  ; 
Though  waving  to  its  rippling  glee, 

And  basking  in  its  beam  ? 
Twine  me  a  wreath  from  its  young  bough, 

The  vernal  chaplet  bring  : 
Formed  from  the  tendrils  drooping  low. 

The  first  fruits  of  the  Spring.  r 

When  Summer  shrinks  from  Autumn's  blasts 
And  leaf  and  blossom  fade : 


97 

Why  doth  the  yew,  unfading  last, 
With  verdure  undecayed  ? 

While  all  around  arc  gone  beside, 
Which  beauty  could  not  save  ; 

It  flourishes  in  stately  pride, 
The  emblem  of  the  grave. 


TO    A    FRIEND. 


It  freshly  comes  from  summer  seas, 
And  gently  is  it  breathing  now — 
Sweet  welcome  to  the  evening  breeze, 
That  cools  my  fevered  brow. 

As  on  its  wings  it  passed  me  by, 

Methought  I  heard  a  whispering  moan 
Was  it  some  kindred  bosom's  sigh, 
That  mingled  with  my  own? 

Or  could  it  be  the  voice  of  years, 

Now  long,  too  unfamiliar  grown, 
Whose  spirit  moves  us,  like  tbe  tears 
We  shed,  when  all  alone! 

The  flowers,  the  richest  in  perfume, 
Their  fragrant  breath  the  freest  give ; 


99 

Why  should  it  be  their  hapless  doom, 
The  shortest  time  to  live? 

But  oh,  the  love  that  we  have  known. 

What  lasting  pleasure  hath  it  given ; 
Ne'er  shall  its  balmy  leaves  be  strown 
Upon  the  winds  of  heaven. 

Fly  then,  thou  light  breeze,  calmly  by, 

And  wind  thy  tuneful  notes  above. 
And  with  the  music,  blend  the  sigh, 
Which  memory  pays  to  love. 


ON    PARTING 


And  tlie  sunlight  clasps  the  earth, 

And  the  moonbeams  kiss  the  sea, 
What  are  all  these  kissiugs  wortli, 

If  thou  kiss  not  me  ?  Shelley. 


One  brief,  brief  moment  more,  cmd  Time, 
Which  cannot  rend  the  silver  cord. 
Which  long  hath  bound  our  hearts  in  one. 
Will  make  us  feel,  he  hath  the  power 

To  break  the  pleasant  interchange 
Of  all  our  tender  bosom  thoughts — 
The  smile,  the  look,  the  fond  caress. 
The  treasures  of  our  present  love. 

All,  all  that  we  have  hoped  and  felt, 
Known  to  have  been,  believed  to  be  ; 
And  trusted  to  perpetuate. 
Hath  to  this  issue  come  at  last. 


101 

'Tis  thus  that  one  brief  moment  proves, 
Proves  oft  the  chiefest  poini  of  life, 
To  which  its  brightest  rays  attend. 
And  whence  returnless  they  diverge. 

Condensed  into  this  narrow  space, 
The  hixury  of  days  all  spent ; 
Still,  still  to  this  the  mind  shall  turn, 
In  darker  change  of  days  to  come. 

Life  is  a  fair  and  fragrant  flower. 
Reared  from  the  seed,  the  soil  of  death ; 
'Tis  fitted  for  an  angel's  lips, 
Though  destined  for  the  grave- worm's  spoil. 

And  love  is  like  the  rose  leaf's  blush, 
Which  fades  far  earlier  than  the  form. 
On  which  its  hues  have  been  impressed, 
Where  they  can  never  long  endure. 

The  hope  of  change,  the  fear  of  change, 
Are  life's  essential  elements  ; 
The  hope  of  something  better  still. 
The  dread  reverse  of  what  is  worse. 
9* 


102 

Joy  knoweth  not  a  lasting  stay, 
It  is  a  transient  visitor ; 
Where  many  under-passions  are, 
To  fright  it  from  a  dwelling  place. 

But  memory  cherishes  its  form, 
In  the  still  chambers  of  the  breast ; 
And  smiles  whene'er  it  welcomes  back, 
So  sweet  a  messenger  of  peace. 

In  all  the  waste  of  hours  and  years, 
Though  seemingly  most  profitless. 
There's  something  that  the  heart  reserves. 
To  soothe,  to  recompense,  to  bless. 


THE    BUGLOSS. 

The  Bugloss  {Lycopsis)  is  supposed  to  be  Uie  Nepenthe  of  the  Ancients,  whicli, 
when  infused  in  wine,  was  thought  to  he  effectual  in  removing  sadness  and  care. 
It  is  a  common,  but  beautiful  flower,  and  is  found  in  every  part  of  our  country. 


Ah,  if  our  cares  thou  couldst  subdue, 

Or  teach  us  to  resign  ; 
We'd  pluck  thy  tufts  of  crested  blue, 

And  steep  them  in  the  wine. 
Or  sip  the  morning's  scented  dew, 

From  bossy  cups  of  thine. 

We'd  twine  thy  garlands  in  our  hair, 
And  bind  them  on  our  breast ; 

And  long  their  fragrance  should  they  bear. 
The  sweetest,  happiest, 

And  prouder  make  the  brows  that  wear. 
Than  if  with  laurels  dressed. 

We'd  search  the  meads  at  early  morn, 
And  visit  them  at  eve  ; 


104 

And  for  the  wretched  and  forlorn, 
The  charmed  wreath  would  weave, 

Nor  eye  of  pride,  nor  lip  of  scorn. 
Should  e'er  the  bosom  grieve. 

Oh,  might  there  be  some  power  to  guide, 

Some  secret  charm  to  bless  : 
Some  bright  flower  blooming  in  its  pride. 

We  fondly  might  caress, 
We'd  lay  it  tliarnless  on  our  side, 

The  balm  of  happiness. 


ECHO     TO     A     PAINTER 

[Translated  from  tlie  Epigrams  of  Ausonius.] 


Why,  painter,  woaldst  thou  paint  me,  why? 

The  child  of  air  and  speech  am  I : 

No  form  or  feature  canst  thou  find, 

To  trace  my  voice  without  a  mind — 

The  words  I  catch  are  sport  for  me, 

I  sport  with  them,  as  now  with  thee : 

My  dwelHng  in  the  ear  is  found, 

If  thou  wouldst  paint  me,  paint  a  sound. 


LESBIA. 

[Translated  from  Ausonius. J 


The  Graces  were  in  number  three. 
Till  Lesbia  made  them  four ; 

But  to  their  number  they  return. 
My  Lesbia  is  no  more. 


LAIS    PRESENTING     HER    MIRR0R 
TO    VENUS. 

[From  the  Same.] 


Dear  goddess  take  this  looking-glass, 

No  more  shall  it  be  mine ; 
It  suite  thy  fair,  unfading  leoks, 

And  beauty  such  as  thine. 

What  I  have  been  in  earlier  days, 

It  will  not  show  to  me ; 
And  what  I  am,  I  would  not  know, 

And  will  not  longer  see. 


TO     THE     MUSaUITOES 


Ye  flee,  ye  varlets,  aff  as  soon 
As  comes  the  braw  October  moon, 

And  autumn  winds  are  blawin'  ; 
Ye  gang  into  your  wintry  cells, 
And  stap  your  bugle  clangin'  spells, 
Ere  frost  is  white  upon  the  dells,  - 

Or  comes  the  chilly  snawin'. 

If  Moses  once  again  should  stand, 

To  thraw  his  plagues  on  Egypt's  land, 

For  chaps  that  hate  the  word ; 
I'm  thinkin',  ye  wad  be  the  thing. 
That  neist  on  Pharaoh  he  should  bring, 
His  host  into  confusion  fling, 

And  mak  'em  luve  the  Lord. 


108 

When  ye  were  thrangin'  by  the  dizin, 
And  sporting  round  in  merry  bizzin', 

I  lay  awake  to  hear  ye ; 
And  drowsily  my  ee  was  blinkin', 
And  sleepless  a'  the  lids  were  winkin', 
I  tried  your  little  wings  the  clinkin', 

But  never  could  come  near  ye. 

Ye  think  it  is  baith  sweet  and  gude 
To  tak  a  feast  o'  rosy  bluid, 

When  plunging  in  our  veins  ; 
But  frisking  on  your  hnkin-wing, 
When  afF  again  ye  glutted  spring, 
Ye  rede  na  o'  the  piercing  sting. 

That  sairly  lang  remains. 

I  doubt  na  if  ye  will  bo  comin' 

To  spend  the  nights  in  sangs  and  hummin', 

Like  feckless  anes  of  Roland ; 
Our  new  inventions  will  not  fail, 
We'll  put  some  powther  on  your  tail, 
Or  gar  ye  afF  wi'  donsie  sail, 

To  a'  the  dykes  o'  Holland. 


TO    AN    ABSENT    SISTER 


When  we  this  painful  truth  have  proved, 
That  all  who  love,  are  not  beloved  ; 
And  often  have  been  forced  to  deem 
That  friendship  is  but  cold  esteem, 

And  when  the  hearts  we  sought  to  gain, 
HavjB  caused  us  less  of  joy,  than  pain, 
And  one  by  one,  we've  broke  the  ties, 
Which  added  to  our  agonies, 

'Tis  consolation  then  to  see 
Some  cheering  proof  of  constancy — 
Some  faithful  bosom  we  have  tried, 
In  whose  warm  love  we  may  confide. 

And  if  of  all  our  hopes  bereft 
But  this,  we  find  this  refuge  left, 
10 


110 

We'll  smile  on  friendship's  severed  chain, 
And  cast  it  from  us  with  disdain. 

Perhaps  for  me,  some  heart  may  beat, 
And  yield  a  love,  both  pure  and  sweet  ; 
But  yet  I  fear,  it  will  not  be 
As  lasting,  as  thy  love  for  me. 


THE     GRAVE 


My  heart  is  a'  for  sorrow  made, 
It  loes  the  tomb-stane's  twihght  shade, 
When  in  my  lanclj  grief,  I'm  weepin' 
Aboon  the  banes  o'  the  lowly  sleepin'. 

Here,  bonny  birds  have  been  to-day 
To  sing,  and  then  to  fly  away ; 
I  would  I  had  their  joyfu'  wing, 
Their  blythe  and  tentless  heart  to  sino- 

o  * 

I  would  my  warm  bluid  could  flow  on. 
As  gayfu'  as  in  times  a'  gone — 
-But  winter's  cauld  and  chilling  blast, 
Has  o'er  my  life's  red  currents  passed. 

The  saut  tear  often  in  my  ee, 
Has  taen  its  brightness  a'  fra'  me. 


112 

Na  mair,  will  e'er  its  flowing  cease, 
Or  yield  the  painfu'  bosom  peace. 

O,  ask  ye  why  my  tears  sud  flow  ? 
It  is  a  mother  sleeps  below ; 
For  smiles  that  to  her  bairn  she  gave, 
These  tear-drops  drip  aboon  her  grave. 


THE    CLOSE    OF    SUMMER 


And  are  they  gone,  the  summer  birds,  which  sported  on 

the  spray? 
And  do  their  hght,  their  fluttering  wings,  rush  swiftly 

from  decay  ? 
Aye,  though  they  sing  among  the  boughs,  when  all  is 

bright  and  green, 
They  shun  them  when  the  rum  comes,  in  its  revolting 

mien. 

The  forest  trees  are  beautiful,  when  golden  bright  and 

brown, 
Ere  yet  the  loose  and  trembling  leaves,  are  shook  and 

trampled  down. 
But  fade  they  in  their  dying  hour,  though  lovely  to  the 

last, 
And   smile    upon   the  blighting    form,   that   comes  in 

autumn's  blast. 


114 

The  flowing  Btream,  its   nurturing  breath  to   all  their 

foliage  gave, 
But  now  the  crisped  and  faded  leaf,  lies  floating  on  the 

wave, 
Or  if  it  drink  the  morning  dew,  when  mouldering  on  the 

earth, 
No  dew  or  water  can  restore  the  freshness  of  its  birth. 

Oh,  seek  not  now  the  meadow-sweet,*  which  cometh  in 

its  pride, 
Nor  orobanche,  nor  violet,  that  bloomcth  by  its  side. 
Amid  its  rocks,  the  saxifrage  no  longer  may  be  found. 
But  its  shrivelled  leaves,  lie  scattered  upon  the  barren 

ground. 

Yet  verdant  is  the  sheltered  hill,  and  grassy  is  the  lawn, 
And  down  its  slope  of  feathery  fern,  the  brook  is  mur- 
muring on. 
The  endive  and  hypericum  yet  loitering  blossoms  yield. 
And  asters,  like  the  stars  of  Hope,  are  lingering  in  the  field. 


*  Spirea  Trifoliata. 


115 

Though  all  of  earth  is  fading  fast,  yet  lovelier  grow  the 
skies, 

And  richer  at  the  close  of  day,  are  the  evening's  purple 
dyes ; 

And  'tis,  to  the  heavens  that  we  turn,  enduring  ever- 
more, 

Rejoiced  to  find  them  in  our  gloom,  still  brighter  than 
before, 


# 


THE    EYES    AND    THE    HEART 


The  eyes  with  certain  truth  express 
Our  anguish  and  our  happiness — 
Leagued  with  the  heart,  Hke  it,  they  show 
Our  sense  of  joy,  our  sense  of  wo  ; 
But  they  must  weep  of  tears,  a  flood, 
And  oh,  the  heart  is  drenched  with  blood ! 


I     SAID    I     WOULD     NOT     SIGH 
AGAIN." 


I  SAID  I  would  not  sigh  again, 

But  be  each  coming  morrow 
As  happy  as  the  hours  are  long, 

And  free  from  every  sorrow. 

But  when  the  simple  vov/  I  made, 

I  knew  not  what  it  meant ; 
Nor  thought  'twould  be  beyond  my  .power, 

To  keep  that  covenant. 

When  every  face  shall  show  a  smile, 
When  it  shall  chance  to  meet  you  ; 

And  all  your  friends  shall  be  sincere, 
When  cordially  they  greet  you : 

When  Fortune  brings  her  gifts  of  gold, 
And  Care  shall  fly  away  ; 


118 

And  you  shall  wear  no  doubtful  looks 
Even  on  a  cloudy  day  ; 

When  every  wish  shall  be  fulfilled, 
And  nothing  come  to  pain  you  ; 

And  lovers  love  you  not  too  much, 
Nor  any  one  disdain  you  ; 

As  long  as  virtue  cannot  claim 

Her  just  reward  of  merit  : 
And  though  displaced  by  low  intrigue, 

You  see  her  calmly  bear  it ; 

And  you  can  stifle  every  sense, 

Which  ministers  to  feeling  ; 
And  cause  another's  biting  wo 

To  make  you  no  appealing  ; 

And  when  your  judgment  is  not  shocked, 

If  Folly  is  deriding  ; 
And  none  through  interest  shall  abuse 

The  heart  that  is  confiding 


'O   J 


When  Falsehood  shall  be  turned  to  Truth, 
So  that  you  may  believe  her ; 


119 

And  Envy  nurse  no  secret  hate, 
The  knave  be  no  deceiver  ; 

When  all  the  hearts  of  all  mankind, 
To  kindness  shall  be  given  ; 

And  Truth  and  Justice  shall  return 
From  whence  they  have  been  driven 

When  you  shall  see  these  miracles, 
Or  work  them,  if  by  trying : 

Then  may  you  be  a  happy  man, 
And  have  no  cause  for  sighing. 


FEAR    AND    HOPE, 


When  first  the  human  heart  was  made, 

It  beat  in  quiet,  till 
A  host  of  Passions  came  and  prayed, 

To  rule  it  at  their  will. 

They  dared  to  seize  upon  the  breast, 

And  each  would  rule  alone  : 
Though  Providence  conceived  it  best, 

That  none  should  fill  the  throne. 

But  two  there  were  by  Him  decreed, 

A  mutual  part  to  play ; 
Thus  Fear  and  Hope,  they  take  the  lead , 

And  hold  alternate  sway. 


THE    WANDERER. 


Wilt  thou  watch  the  white  sail,  as  it  swells  to  the  wind, 

When  the  ship  bounds  over  the  sea  ? 
Wilt  thou  think  of  the  joy  I've  forsaken  behind, 

The  light  of  the  blessed  for  me  ? 

The  tears  I  shall  weep  in  the  fountains  below, 
Will  be  lost  in  the  blue  ocean's  brine  ; 

For  these  lone,  dreary  waters,  as  o'er  them  I  go, 
Will  but  sport  with  such  sorrow  as  mine. 

There,  the  sea  bird  is  lonely,  he  sings  us  no  song, 
His  dirge  is  the  night-wind's  low  hum  : 

And  in  soft  sullen  murmurs,  the  waves  move  along. 
They  sigh  for  the  tempest  to  come. 

It  will  come  when  the  spirit  walks  forth  on  the  deep, 
When  the  breath  from  his  nostrils  is  blown, 
11 


122 

Then  the  wild  raging  whirlwind  shall  ruthlessly  sweep, 
And  ruin  respond  to  its  moan. 

When  the  loud  voice  of  thunder  shall  fearlessly  speak, 

The  clouds  in  its  pathway  it  rends : 
In  her  cave  of  rose  coral,  the  mermaid  will  shriek, 

When  she  hears  the  loud  echo  it  sends. 

But  the  danger,  the  ruin,  the  storm-tide,  we  dare, 
For  the  love  which  our  bosom  upholds  ; 

The  banner  which  shields  us,  floats  it  not  on  the  air. 
And  are  not  the  stars  in  its  folds  ? 

Though  stout  is  the  heart  and  strong  is  its  nerve, 

It  feels  a  deep  throbbing  of  pain  ; 
When  Reason  has  spoken,  and  we  may  not  e'er  swerve 

Back  to  its  sweet  blisses  again. 

'Tis  a  dreary  waste  empire,  the  cloud-girtcd  sea, 
With  her  diadem  spangled  with  foam  ; 

In  all  its  deep  lowliness,  'tis  fitted  to  be. 
The  wanderer's  pitiless  home. 


THE    HERALD     OF     WINTER 


The  earth  is  all  stript  of  its  red  and  its  green, 

And  its  bright  rich  foliage  no  longer  is  seen ; 

It  is  withered  and  sere,  though  it  shone  in  its  pride, 

And  hath  known  what  the  touch  of  decay  doth  betide. 

The  bird  and  the  blossom  have  been  chilled  by  my  breath, 

And  have  shrunk  as  it  were  from  the  smiting  of  death. 

The  fields  are  untilled  and  the  husbandman  is  gone. 
And  the  ploughboy  sings  not  his  sweet  carol  at  dawn ; 
The  hoar  frost  at  morning,  has  been  white  on  the  hill, 
And  the  waters  have  deepened  in  the  lone  woodland  rill. 
And  my  pathway  is  clear,  and  I  am  come  to  bestow, 
The  stores  of  my  ice,  and  my  treasures  of  snow. 

Let  the  mariner  watch  who  goes  forth  on  the  deep, 
Where  the  fierce  storm  spirits  their  wild  revel  keep: 


121 

Let  him  watch  for  the  tempest  that  slumbers  at  hand, 
It  shall  rise  from  the  sea,  it  shall  spring  from  the  land, 
When  it  pours  out  its  wrath  on  the  white  foaming  wave, 
He  will  call  on  the  God  of  the  whirlwinds  to  save. 

Ye  marked  the  bright  bloom  ere  the  fruit  was  yet  grown, 
And  saw  the  green  fields  by  the  reaper  unmown; 
But  the  fruit  has  been  ripe,  and  the  harvest  is  past. 
They  were  seasons  of  hope,  and  they  could  not  long  last ; 
And  the  winter  is  come,  and  the  warning  is  given. 
Can  this  waste  of  cold  earth  be  the  Ukeness  of  heaven  ? 


UNHAPPINESS 


The  blackest  clouds  away  will  roll, 
Or  weep  in  floods  of  rain ; 

But  oh,  the  darkness  of  the  soul, 
UncUanging  must  remain. 

It  knows  no  sun  of  kindling  light, 
Whose  constant  beanvit  wins  ; 

And  when  our  highest  joy  concludes, 
Our  deepest  wo  begins. 


IV 


ISABEL 


Though  mouniains  meet  not,  loverg  may 

Cupid's  rxsxiMt 


Haste,  quickly  bring  my  noble  steed, 

And  rein  him  for  his  fleetest  speed : 

Swift  as  my  warm,  warm  thoughts  I'll  flee 

To  thee,  my  gentle  love,  to  thee, 

And  all  my  doubting  fears  dispel, 

My  own,  my  own  sweet  Isabel. 

I  see  each  lovely  beaming  grace, 
In  brightness  flashing  o'er  thy  face; 
And  it  recalls  the  moments,  when 
I  first  felt,  what  I  feel  again — 
The  thrilling  sense  of  beauty  s  spell, 
I  learnt  from  thee,  my  Isabel. 


127 

Away,  away,  oh,  let  me  flee, 
And  bear  my  heart,  my  soul  to  thee  ; 
For  these,  and  all  I  have,  are  thine. 
And  heaven  and  thee  alone  are  mine ; 
With  thee  my  love,  with  thee  to  dwell, 
Is  bliss,  pure  bliss,  my  Isabel. 


EASE    OF    MANNERS. 


He  has  no  thought  to  please,  Ibut  pleases  all, 
Without  a  boon  they  give  him  their^steem, 
And  with  his  carelessness  they  are  in  love ; 
He  is  forsooth,  the  mo(ffel  of  all  grace, 
And  counts  admirers  like  a  looking-glass. 
And  when  with  aiif  of  most  important  speech, 
He  talks  of  fashion  and  of  idle  things  ; 
His  tongue  is  mounted  upon  polished  wheels, 
And  far  outstrips  my  dull  -philosophy — 
What !  I  have  studied  all  the  lore  of  science, 
And  in  much  secret  learning  am  I  skilled, 
But  here  I  sit,  propped  up  by  awkward  stays, 
As  useless  as  a  lamp  in  broad  day-time — 
I'll  have  no  more  of  books,  or  globes,  or  maps, 
In  mere  abstraction  will  no  longer  live. 
And  without  study,  study  how  to  please. 


VENI,    VI  DI,    NON    y  ICI." 

(An  Epigram  lo  a  Lady.) 


/  came^  I  saic,  it  was  enough- 
I  nothing  more  could  do  ; 

I  knelt  a  captive  at  your  feet, 
The  conqueror  were  you. 


FORTUNE     AND     FOLLY     CONTENDING 
AGAINST    VIRTUE    AND    WISDOM. 


When  in  the  days  of  classic  Greec^e, 
Her  games  proclaimed  the  songs  of  peace, 
And  nations  warred,and  wrangled,  till 
They  met  to  try  their  strength  and  sldll ; 
Upon  the  lists  to  fame  endeared, 
Four  novel  champions  there  appeared, 
And  when  their  names  were  read  aloud, 
It  raised  the  wonder  of  the  crowd, 
And  as  surprised  they  gazed  the  while, 
It  drew  from  every  face  a  smile. 
Say,  would  you  venture  to  suppose 
From  what  this  strange  amazement  rose  ; 
Or  think,  the  sight  which  met  their  view. 
Has  not  been  often  seen  by  yo\x  ? 
The  honest  truth,  I'm  sure  you'll  own, 
Soon  as  the  mj^stery  you  have  known. 


131 

Fortune  and  Folly  on  one  side, 
Wisdom  and  Virtue  both  defied — 
And  though,  as  if  for  very  life, 
They  joined  the  issue  of  the  strife, 
Yet  all  believed,  (as  it  were  meet,) 
They  both  would  suffer  quick  defeat. 
But  Virtue,  timorous  was  and  shy, 
And  Wisdom  paused  for  scrutiny  ; 
Whilst  Fortune,  teing  very  blind, 
At  random  struck,  before,  behind. 
And  joined  by  Folly,  rash  and  bold. 
Their  every  blow,  like  thunder  told  ; 
Thus  speedily  they  end  the  fight. 
And  put  their  cautious  foes  to  flight.' 


*  The  idea  of  this  piece  was  suggested  from  seeing  the  incident, 
which  it  relates,  mentioned  in  Burton's  Anat.  Melanchol. 


L' AMOUR, 


"  Ficum  voco  ficoni,  et  ligonem,  ligonem. 


Though  belles  and  beaux,  'iAfyerse  and  prose, 

Make  love  a  thing  ideal ; 
I  am  inclined  to  keep  my  mind, 

And  think  it  something  real, 

I'm  sure  its  something  real. 

The  heart  that  aches,  till  it  almost  breaks, 

The  soul  that  sighs  for  me  : 
When  a  smile  will  heal,  what  lovers  feel, 

'Tis  just  as  love  should  be, 

And  give  that  love  to  me. 

He  that's  grum,  or  a  tongue  that's  dumb, 

Is  nothing  worth  to  me  ; 
But  a  voice  that's  sweet,  when  lovers  meet, 

'Tis  as  the  voice  should  be. 

And  let  it  speak  to  me. 


THE    MARINER'S    WIFE 


We  bade  adieu,  when  the  fair  wind  blew, 

And  tears  were  falling  free ; 
For  tranquil  seas,  and  a  homeward  breeze, 

How  bright  our  eyes  will  be  ! 

Kind  gales  prevail,  and  speed  the  sail, 

Swift  o'er  the  azure  main  ; 
With  a  swifter  wing,  may  ye  safely  bring, 

Her  homeward  back  again. 

The  honest  tar,  who  sails  afar, 
Will  think,  when  on  the  sea ; 

That  winds  ahead,  which  others  dread, 
Will  waft  his  sighs  to  me. 

But  a  heart  more  tme,  he  never  knew, 
Which  feels  those  sighs  alone— 
12 


134 

When  the  fair  wind  blows,  and  the  proud  ship  goes, 
I'll  send  him  back  my  own. 

From  his  sea-girt  skies,  his  fancy  flies, 

His  thoughts  ahome  incline  : 
May  the  bosom  be,  of  the  heaving  sea, 

As  safe  and  true  as  mine  ! 


TIxME    AND    LOVE 


As  Time  and  Love,  each  other  met, 

Upon  a  rainy  day  ; 
With  nought  to  do,  their  wings  all  wet, 

They  talked  along  the  way. 

They  diverse  were,  in  size  and  looks, 

As  e'er  two  beings  were  • 
Time  hoary  with  the  snows  of  age, 

But  Love  was  fresh  and  fair. 

Quoth  Time,  "  I  see  not  how  it  is. 

That  I  am  thus  forlorn  ; 
I  think  that  thou  cam'st  in  the  world, 

Just  after  I  was  born." 


13G 

'"Tis  true  indeed,"  sweet  Love  replied, 

"  I  was  the  next  on  earth  ; 
But  every  hour  tliat  I  have  lived, 

I  have  renewed  my  birth. 

"  That  truth,"  rejoined  the  God  of  years, 

"  Need  scarcely  to  be  told  : 
For  I  have  seen  in  all  the  world, 

But  little  love  that's  old  "  . 

"  My  fickle  sway,"  returned  the  boy, 

"  Never,  never  deride  : 
For  very  few  there  are,  with  thee, 

That  long  are  satisfied." 

'"Tis  true,  'tis  true,  my  Uttle  swain, 

Few  comprehend  our  use ; 
For  all  mankind  united  are, 

To  load  us  with  abuse. 

"^But  yonder  breaks  the  ruling  Sun, 

Whose  sceptre  I  obey  ; 
Behind  his  blazing  car  I  go, 

And  haste,  I  must  away." 


137 

"  Adieu,  adieu,"  then  Cupid  spake, 
"  But  think  what  thou  hast  said ; 

Though  thou  wert  born  before  I  was, 
I'll  live  when  thou  art  dead. 

"  But  now  a  boon,  I  crave  of  thee, 

By  all  the  powers  above ; 
That  thou  wouldst  grant  to  man  and  maid, 

All,  time  enough  to  love." 


12* 


YOUTH    AND    AGE, 


A  YOUTH  to  small  reflection  given, 

At  last  was  to  reflection  driven  ; 

His  form  and  features  he  surveyed, 

And  grieved  to  find  them  much  decayed, 

And  felt,  what  many  a  pang  had  cost, 

The  worst  of  all,  his  health  was  lost. 

He  sighed,  ah,  deeply  sighed,  to  see 

He  was  not  as  he  used  to  be — 

The  spring  of  his  young  days  was  gone, 

And  life  had  put  its  autumn  on, 

The  thought,  his  soul  could  not  endure, 

The  yellow  leaf  was  premature. 

As  from  his  bosom  burst  the  sigh, 

It  chanced  that  Age  was  passing  by. 

"  My  son,"  observed  the  hoary  sage, 

"  Some  painful  thoughts  thy  mind  engage 


139 

Behold  my  years  !   Can  I  impart 
A  cordial  to  thy  wounded  heart  ?" 
The  youth  surveyed  his  aged  mien, 
And  stern  remorse  gave  vent  to  spleen — 
"  I  loathe  thee  as  the  worst  of  foes, 
Thou  art  the  author  of  my  woes." 
"'Tis  false" — the  veteran  calmly  said, 
"  Th^/self  hast  brought  them  on  thy  head, 
Misguided,  thoughtless,  and  betrayed, 
The  wrongs  you  feel,  are  all  self  made, 
To  vice,  voluptuousness,  and  ease, 
Ascribe  alone  thy  injuries — 
But  are  you  willing  to  restore. 
And  keep,  what  you  possessed  before  ? 
Learn  then,  herein  the  secret  lies. 
Be  virtuous,  temperate^  and  wise  " 


ISNARDIA     PALUSTRIS 


The  forest  bee  hath  long  been  forth, 
To  toil  and  sport  beneath  the  summer  sun, 
And  "make  his  boot  upon  the  velvet  buds  ;" 
Where  are  the  flowers  which  met  him  in  his  flight, 
Winning  their  lover  from  his  busy  home, 
To  yield  him  their  sweet  breath  ere  they  should  die? 
The  twisted  staff  weed,  and  the  mountain  ash. 
With  blushing  berries,  now  are  crowned  once  more : 
The  staphyle,  with  lithe  and  striped  stem, 
Hangs  out  its  green  balloons  unto  the  wind — 
It  is  the  autumn  wind,  frosty  and  cool ; 
But  still  the  harebell  on  the  craggy  rocks. 
The  pale  chelone,  and  the  tawny  flax,* 
In  blossom  glow,  although  the  woodlands  fade, 

*  Antirrhinum. 


141 

And  thou,  the  lovcHest  of  the  sister-band, 
Fair  Isnardia,  and  sweetest  of  them  all, 
'Tis  joy  to  me  to  court*thy  lonely  haunts, 
And  kiss  the  down  upon  thy  purple  lip — 
Fitter,  ah,  fitter  far,  hadst  thou  been  nursed 
By  genial  Spring's  most  soft  and  pleasant  breath, 
And  fated  not  like  me,  to  feel  the  blasts 
That  blow  too  ruthless  on  a  tender  cheek. 
Dear  flower,  I  love  thee,  that  thou  dost  recall 
The  thoughts  of  one^  once  lovely  as  thou  art, 
And  gentle  in  her  most  attractive  grace, 
But  doomed,  like  thee,  too  early  far,  to  know 
The  unrelenting  touch  of  quick  decay. 
Come,  sweet,  I  will  transplant  thee  on  her  tomb. 
That  they,  who  mark  thy  modest  form,  may  say, 
How  Beauty  oft  companioned  is  with  Death ! 


FRIENDSHIP    AND    LOVE 


Friendship  and  Love  once,  hand  in  hand, 

Upon  a  couch  did  He  ; 
And  whilst  they  bravely  talked  and  laughed, 

A  lovely  maid  passed  by. 

When  Love  beheld  her  brilliant  eyes, 

His  silver  bow  he  drew : 
And  Friendship  seized  his  silken  cord. 
And  he  was  ready  too. 

Says  Love,  I'll  shoot  my  arrow  first, 
The  wound  will  serve  to  blind  her : 

Then  you  may  come  to  play  your  part. 
And  easily  may  bind  her. 

But  Friendship  thought  it  would  be  best, 
That  Love  should  make  delay  ; 


143 

'Twere  time  enough  for  him  to  act, 
When  he  had  tried  the  way. 

Thus  these  two  ancient  friends  fell  out ; 

And  while  they  bruited  on, 
The  charming  maid,  with  sweet  bright  eyes, 

Beyond  their  reach  had  gone. 

Unto  the  throne  of  Justice  then, 

They  speedily  depart  ; 
To  learn  which  was  entitled  first, 

To  claim  a  lady's  heart. 

The  answer  of  the  reverend  judge 
» 

Was  just,  as  you  might  deem  ] 

He  told  them  that  they  both  should  wait^ 

And  come  after  Esteem, 


THE    WORLD. 


'TwAS  told  me  in  my  younger  days, 
The  world  was  all  deceiving ; 

And  often  have  I  blamed  the  heart, 
That  long  was  unbelieving. 

The  fault  was  mine,  and  not  the  world' s- 

I  will  not  then  reprove  it ; 
I  knew  it  gave  me  cause  enough, 

Why  I  should  never  love  it. 

The  kindly  feelings  I  indulged, 

It  urged  me  to  efface  them  ; 
And  much  I  fear,  it  will  be  long, 

If  e'er  it  doth  replace  them. 

But  those  I  have  received  in  stead, 
Will  last  perhaps  the  longer  ; 


145 

For  though  they  are  not  half  so  fair, 
Yet  ten  times  ar§  they  stronger. 

Then  go,  thou  world,  I  heed  thee  not, 
Thou' St  made  me  something  wiser  ; 

Thou  art  a  mother  who  loves  best, 
The  children  who  despise  her. 


13 


/ 


NUBES    MAGELLANiE 


The  Magellanic  clouds  aTc  seen  in  llie  vicinity  of  the  South  Pole.  They  arc 
three  in  number :  two  of  them  of  a  whitish  appearance,  and  the  other  is  somewhat 
obscure.  Sailors  designate  them  as  being  two  while  and  one  black,  and  say  that 
they  are  the  clouds  which  conducted  the  Children  of  Israel  out  of  the  land  of 
Egypt.  We  have  chosen  to  speak  of  all  of  them  as  opacities  in  the  Heavens. 
Magellan,  the  famous  Portuguese  navigator,  perished  at  one  of  Uic  Philippine 
Islands,  in  1521,  in  a  skirmish  with  the  natives. 


(written  at  sea.) 


As  often  as  the  eve  returns, 

Begemmed  with  sparkUng  lights  on  high, 
I  view  ye  in  your  silent  spheres, 

Ye  lonely  prisoners  of  the  sky. 

Why  take  ye  not  your  fleecy  wings, 

And  fly  away  all  unconfined  ; 
The  swift  inhabitants  of  space, 

And  playthings  of  the  sportive  wind  ? 


147 

Amid  a  throng  of  lovely  orbs, 

The  southern  Cross  is  beaming  bright ; 
But  from  their  soft  and  blending  rays, 

Ye  catch  no  silver  shade  of  light. 

Move  darkly  on — move  darkly  on, 
Unchanged,  unchanging  ever  be  ; 

Though  no  effulgent  gleams  are  thine, 
It  alters  not  thy  destiny. 

'Tis  fitter  that  ye  stay  the  same. 
Your  sombre,  sable  livery  wear ; 

In  mourning  for  his  hapless  doom, 
The  symbols  of  whose  fate  ye  are. 

Ye  benefactors  of  mankind, 

Who  rest  with  all  your  toils  content ; 
Who  merit  much,  at  last  to  find 

Your  chief  reward,  a  monument — 

Why  should  ye  seek  for  idle  fame, 
Or  court  its  false  applauding  breath ; 

Or  be  the  masters  of  the  world, 

To  win  but  want,  and  chains  and  death' 


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1  vol.  8vo. 

This  volume  is  a  learned  and  most  interesliiij^  commentary  on  tlie  Mosaic  ac- 
count of  the  creation  ;  compruliending  all  the  light  that  criticism,  history,  philoso- 
phy and  modern  discoveries  have  thrown  on  tlie  inspired  narrative  of  the  mysteri- 
«)U3  production  of  this  globe  and  all  it  inherits,  with  that  most  wonderful  of  its 
inhabitants,  man.  It  ought  to  be  read  by  all  who  take  an  interest  in  matters,  of 
which,  the  nature  and  constitution  of  the  planet  they  are  born  on,  (he  elements 
they  live  in,  and  the  whole  range  of  physical  philosophy,  as  subjects  proper  to  be 
understood  byiliose  i)rofessing  to  be  educated. —  Cvmmircial  .Jdrcrtiscr. 

Uno  pre-cuiinent  excellence  of  the  work  is,  that  Religion  is  not  madetodo  obei- 
sance to  science,  or  reason,  but  merely  accepts  their  hand-maid  services,  in  com- 
mending her  pleasant  ways,  to  the  judgment  andconscienceof  captious  men.— if  «;>- 
list  lirpositnnj. 

Mr.  Wood  describes  the  birlh  of  the  elements  in  language  that  kindles  over  the 
grandeur  of  creation.  The  work  is  replete  with  the  accoimts  of  fads  illustrative 
of  the  power  of  the  elemental  principles  of  natural  science.  We  heartily  advise 
every  reader  of  our  sheet  to  place  the  Mosaic  History  on  the  shelves  of  his  library. 
— Ilad^rr's  Alissrncrcr. 

Itj5  subject  is  one  of  absorbing  interest,  treated  in  a  manner  deser>'ng  the  highest 
encomium  we  can  bestow. — Courier  S,-  Rnqutrer.  .    . 

This  is  a  most  interesting  book,  and  it  is  as  useful  as  a  is  mteresting.  How 
much  belter  is  it  for  the  searcher  alter  truth  to  read  h"  "•"'c  in  connexion  wall 
works  of  this  kind,  tlian  to  couHne  himself  to  the  c^eculationsof  the  bigot,  or  tho 
dreams  of  the  enthusiast.  We  hope  that  ihi-  •I'J'y  written  treatise  will  receive 
the  attention  it  merits.— c7/r/ft</'aM /«<rZZ/>'"^^'"; 

We  have  not  yet  given  it  a  thorouf^"'  P^ r"-''"'.  ""t  "e  have  read  enough  to  en- 
gage our  attentioii,  and  to  wish  ihr-  n  was  twice  as  long  as  it  \s.—  Utica  FJuci- 

To  clergymen  and  other?  *viiosc  libraries  are  small,  it  will  be  especially  useful ; 
for  it  embraces  almost  tlu'  wh"'c  circle  of  the  Natural  Sciences,  and  contains  mucli 
valuable  thooloav.— /^/»/.ff<'/'«^  IVatchman. 

It  is  with  peculiar  pl«isure  that  we  welcome  from  the  press,  such  works  as  the 
one  beforfi  »is,  in  wW^h  we  are  called  to  view  with  rational  and  enlightened  sci- 
ence, the  stupend^'us  fabric  of  creation  ns  evidencing  a  "marvrllous  display  of  Om- 
nipotence" a«^uringu3  of  the  Divine  existence. — Christian   Watchman. 


DISCOURSES  ON  VARIOUS  SUBJECTS,  relative  to  the 
Being  and  Attributes  of  Grod,  and  his  works  in  Creation,  Provi- 
dence, and  Grace.  By  Adam  Clahkk,  LL.D.  F.A.S.  &c.  «&c.,  2 
vols.  8vo. — Handsomely  bound,  with  double  title,  with  a  superior 
portrait  of  Dr.  Clarke,  eni^raved  in  the  bet^t  manner  upon  steel. 
Price  S 

In  those  sermons  that  are  now  before  u?,  there  is  a  depth  of  penetration,  an  ac- 
cuteness  of  resioarch,  and  a  vigorous  raiifje  of  thought,  wliicli,  in  modern  discour- 
ses, we  but  rarely  find.  Tliese  are  accompanied  with  sucli  ;i  \\  imntli  of  devotional 
feeling,  such  a  rich  vein  of  piety,  and  such  a  stroni;  regard  to  the  fundamental  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel,  as  greatly  toeulianco  tlicir  value.  All  this,  iiowcver,  was  e.\- 
pectod  from  the  author's  well-known  talents,  and  literary  character ;  and  few,  we 
believe,  will  complain  of  disappoinuiieni. — Imperial  Mugazine. 

The  venerable  author  of  these  sermons,  has  for  many  years  ranked  among  the 
most  eminent  minislers  of  the  present  age ;  and  we  are  glad  that  he  lias  been  pre- 
vailed upon  to  commit  to  the  press  these  specimens  of  hisiiisiructive  and  energetic 
preaching.  Possessed  of  astrengtliof  mind  far  greater  than  tiiat  which  falls  to  the 
lot  of  ordinary  men,  and  extensively  acquaiiiK^d  with  Oriental  literature,  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  life  has  been  devoted  to  the  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Accus- 
tomed to  weigh  their  phraseology,  to  investigate  their  rights  and  ceremonies,  the 
arts  and  scicncesf  the  historical  facts  and  characters,  to  which  reference  is 
made  in  the  inspired  records,  he  is  eminently  qnalilied  to  throw  light  on  their  sa- 
cred contents.  •(<***** 

Some  of  the  discourses  are  of  considerable  length,  and  of  great  value.  Forcom- 
prehension  of  thought,  clear  and  forcible  argumentation,  and  profound  views  of 
Divine  truth,  some  of  them  are  equal  to  the  best  temions  of  Farimion,  Barrow, 
or  South  ;  but  on  the  subject  of  personal  godliness,  tiiey  are  incomparably  super  ior 
to  any  thing  that  those  eminent  Divines  and  i)reachers  ever  wrote.  We  know  of 
no  Sermons  in  which  so  much  learning  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  ail-hnportant 
subject  of  experimental  xeV\g\on.—  lVcslcijman  Jht/tu<li.-t  .Magazine. 

LIFE  OF  PATRICK  HENRY,  by  Wiu.iam  Wirt,  Esa.  Fourth 
revised  edition,  with  a  portrait  of  Patrick  Henry.  1  vol.  8vo. — 
Price 

WirVs  JAfc  of  Henry.— tio  man  living  was  better  fitted  than  tlie  Hon.  William 
Wirt,  to  write  the  life  of  Patrick  Henry.  No  son  could  have  iliuslrntotl  and  sought 
out  amidst  the  discordant  elements  of  faction  and  misrepresentation,  the  noble 
traits  of  a  father's  character  more  faithfully,  and  more  in  the  spirit  of  filial  love, 
than  Wirt  has  done  in  the  case  of  Henry.  It  is  indeed,  a  wonder  that  a  splendid 
edition  of  this  work  has  never  before  been  presented  to  the  American  public,  as 
all  the  former  editions  lusve  made  but  an  indiflereut  api)carance.  This  admirable 
volume  sJiouid  be  found  in  every  American  Library. — Butl<rcr\-<  .Messenger. 

Of  the  merits  of  tliis  work,  wiiich  ranks  among  the  American  classics^  it  is  su- 

f»erfluous  to  speak.  Few  /fmerican  IJiographies,  if  any,  have  been  more  popu- 
ar,  and  it  deserves  the  jjopularity  it  has  attained  as  well  on  account  of  its  literary 
merits,  as  for  the  interesting  character  of  the  illustrious  individual  whose  fame  it 
Xftzoxil'A.— Commercial  .ddvertiscr. 

MEMOIRS  of  the.  LIFE  and  MINISTRY  of  the  Rev.  JOHN 
SUMMER^lELD,  A.  M.,  late  a  preacher  in  connexion  with  the 
Methodist  Epw-opal  Church  in  America.  By  John  Holland. 
With  an  mtroductu-y  Letter,  by  jAMii.s  Montgomery. 
A  fervent,  fearless,  self-8acrirKij,„  preacher,  the  delicht  of  wondering,  weeping 
and  admiring  aiidiencoi!,  wherever -i^  wcin.—Motihromety. 

1  have  leadthe  life  of  the  llev.  John  fc-^nrnfrnelcfwiih  L'rcat  satisfaction.  It  is 
a  very  interesting  record,  and  I  trust  wiir,..y,„„n.  ,i,c  imcreslsof  our  common 
Christianity,  of  which  Mr.  S.  was  so  bright  an  t-^qauient ;  and  so  happy  an  exam- 
ple «)f  the  union  of  zeal  with  Catholicism  and  of  talbats  with  humilitv  —Profe-isor 
SiUimanofYiile.L4,ncge.  ''  ' 

Life,  of  Summrrfie.ld.—'Wv  have  been  reading  with  niurh  satisfaction  the  IVle- 
moirsof  this  popular  and  di-voted  young  minister.  Tilt  lK»ok  exhibits  n  spt-cimcn 
of  Hiograjdiy  as  beautiful  and  finished  as  simplicity,  puvUv,  and  force  of  style, 
united  to  rlchnetis  and  chatrteness  of  ornament,  can  well  makei-   und  the  maleridU 


are  Intcrcstfnj!  and  instnicllvc— and  what  la  no  small  praise,  it  i«  laudably  purged 
of  bigotry  ami  soclarianlsin. — VuUh  Ilrj'unncd  .Magazine. 

Tlii.s  IS  a  workolrarecvcellfiicf.  We  speak  not  now  of  its  literary  merit.  We 
speak  of  a  liiuljcr  quality.  It  is  the  simple;  and  touching  '^tory  of  one  who,  for  a 
few  brief  yeais,  livrd  and  labored  and  .-utTerrd  among  u.s  in  the  cause  of  Christ, 
and  was  not,  ''■-■  '  •  '•  him.  It  is  one  of  those  lew  hooks  which  we  read  with 
hearts  full  <ji  -  to  God— and  we  have  received  much  advanlafre  and 

much  pic-aeiii  il<-  and  recommeud  it  to  our  rti'adeis.—  Theolo o  ical  Jie- 

ptrtij/i/. 

The"  volume  will  i  with  avidity,  and  read  by  thousands  with  plea- 

sure, although  tli'v  .  HOen  iiiui  ;  lint  to  those  who  knew  him  as  he  liv- 

ed, and  read  howu.  ..  >..  .l  .....  be  a  treasure  wiUi  wliich  they  will  not  readily 
part. — .'ikrcantilc  .Idccrtigcr. 

VILLAGE  SERMO^'S  ;  One  Hundred  and  Ont-  Plain  and  Short 
Discourses,  on  the  ])rinciplc  doctrine.s  of  the  Gospel ;  intended  for 
the  u.se  of  faiuilie.^,  Sunday  Schools,  or  companies  assembled  for  re- 
ligious instruction,  in  country  ^illagcs,  by  Gkorge  Burder.  To 
which  is  added,  to  each  sermon,  a  short  prayer,  with  some  general 
prayers  for  families,  schools,  &C.     1  vol.  8vo. 

"  Come,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  field ;  let  us  lodge  in  the  villages." 

Solomon. 
This  work  is  got  up  in  the  very  best  style,  as  regards  the  quality 
of  the  paper,  the  correctness  and  beauty  of  the  printing,  or  the 
neatness  and  durability  of  the  binding.  As  the  work  is  so  gene- 
rally known,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  any  thing  in  its  commenda- 
tion. 

THE  COURSE  OF  TIME,  a  Poem,  by  Robert  Pollok,  A.  M., 
with  a  memoir  of  the  Author,  an  introductory  notice,  a  copious  in- 
dex, and  an  analysis  prefixed  to  each  book,  by  N,  W.  Fisk,  of  Am- 
herst College.     1  vol.  18mo. — Price  37^  cts. 

The  Memoir  of  the  Author,  Introductory  Notice,  Index,  and  Analvsi?,  prepared 
for  this!  work  bv  Mr.  Fisk,  have  considerably  enhanced  the  value  of  the  book,  and 
rendered  this  edition  the  most  popular  of  any  in  the  market. 

Persons  wishing  to  procure  this  edition  will  please  to  inquire  for  Pollok's 
Course  of  Time  with  Fis/c's  improvements.  It  can  be  obtai.itjd  at  almost  any  book 
store  in  the  United  States. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  SANFORD  AND  MERTON,  by  Tho- 
mas Day,  Esq.  Re\i.sed  by  the  Author  of  American  Popular  Les- 
sons. Handsomely  printed  on  fine  pai>er,  and  illustrated  with  three 
wood  engravings.     I  vol.  18mo. 

"The  history  of  Sanford  and  Merlou,  written  fifty  years  ago,  is  at  this  moment 
the  most  interesting  and  edifying  of  children's  books ;  highly  entertammg,  exhibit- 
ing Uie  best  examples,  inculcating  a  virtuous  conduct,  Uie  right  use  of  reason,  just 
moral  princii)les  and  useful  truth  in  regard  to  physical  nature,  all  m  the  most  in- 
telligible and  attractive  manner. " 

ZION  SONGSTER;  a  Collection  of  H}Tnns  and  Spiritual  Songs, 
generally  sung  at  Camp  and  Pravcr  Meetings,  and  in  revivals  of 
religion.  Compiled  by  Peter  D.  Myers;  with  a  copperplate  fron- 
tispTece,  and  vignette  titlepage. — 37  1-2  cents. 

"  This  work  comprises  some  of  the  best  Hymns  of  Bishop  Heber,  Mohtgomery, 
and  other  modern  [wets  as  well  as  all  those  in  general  use  at  Camp  Meetmgs,  &.c. 
It  is  briieved  to  be  aVo  lessobjecti.mabk-  on  the  L'ro..nd  of  dog-erel,  than  most  oth- 
ers published  for  the  :^ame  pnrposc-s.  "  Printed  on  hne  paper  and  neatly  bound. 
THE  DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE  Constitution 
of  the  United  States,  ^nd  Washington's  Farewell  Address  to  the 
Peonle  of  the  United  States;  in  1  vol.  IS^nc— price  2S  cents. 


GOLDEN  TREASURY :  consistinrr  of  select  texts  of  the  Bible, 
with  Practical  Observations,  in  procie  and  verse,  for  every  day  in 
the  year.  By  C.  H.  V.  Bouatsky.  Together  with  a  few  forms 
of  prayer,  for  private  use.     388  pp.  IHino. — price  50  cents. 

THE  BIBLE  STORY  BOOK;  taken  from  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments;  for  the  use  of  Cliildren.  From  the  Enjilish  edition. 
Corrected  and  enlarged  by  the  Author  of  American  Poj)ular  Les- 
sons. In  two  volumes.  The  iirst  volume,  coutaininfr  narratives 
from  the  Old  Testament,  is  illustrated  by  40  beautiful  wood  cuts, 
and  the  second  volume,  (on  the  New  Testament.)  by  o'2  wood  cuts*. 

"The  Bihle  Stoiy  Book  was  orissitmlly  an  rnplisl)  puljlicntion.  It  containti 
brief  and  inlellif!;iblc  narratives  of  fact^:  lelaled  in  llic  Old  and  Ne\v  Teslamenip. 
Tliese  narratives  art-  iaterniixcd  will)  mora!  and  religious  applications,  su(  h  as  all 
children  can  understand,  and  such  as  can  olFcnd  no  religious  denomination.  " 

INTRODUCTION  TO  POPULAR  LESSONS ;  by  the  Author 
of  American  Popular  Lessons,  with  numerous  cuts;  designed  as  a 
reading  i)ook  for  Young  Children. — price  25  cents. 

This  little  book  was  prepared  expressly  for  the  use  of  small  children  jnsl  learn- 
ing to  read,  and  is  intended  as  a  fir.tt.  reading  book  ki  schools.  With  a  view  to 
Ihia  it  is  printed  on  a  very  large  and  handsome  type,  and  made  interesling  to  the 
child,  as  well  by  its  simplicity  of  .style,  as  its  being  filled  with  cuts  or  pictures.  It 
lias  been  e.xtensively  introduced  into  schools,  and  is  found  to  give  perfect  satisfac- 
tion. 

In  teaching  young  children  to  rend,  I  have  felt  the  want  of  a  popular  book  that 
should  teach  them  to  Ihink  also.  Until  teachers  or  ])arents  examine  aU  the  ele- 
mentary books  used  by  their  pupils,  until  they  have  the  ability  to  distinsruish 
which  are  the.  best,  and  the  independence  to  use  those  which  are  adapted  to  un- 
practised alid  uijfuniished  mhids,  it  will  be  of  small  use  to  write  good  school 
hooks ;  and  until  better  ones  than  many  of  those  in  present  fashion  shall  be  u.scd, 
half  the  labor  of  teaching  will  be  frustrated,  except  so  far  as  it  enriches  schoolmas- 
ters.—  Extract  from  the  Jluthor\-!  Preface. 

JACOBS'  LATIN  READER;  by  Fui-nEHKK  J.u  ons,  and  Fre- 
derick WiLi,i.AM  DoHiN'c:  :  with  Notes  and  Illustrations,  partly 
translated  from  the  German,  and  partly  drawn  from  other  sources. 
By  John  D.  Ogilhy,  Principal  of  theGrammar  School  of  Coliun- 
bia  College,  New- York.     I  vol.  l"2mo. 

THE  SYMBOLICAL  PRIMER,  or  CLASS  BOOK,  No.  1.  By 
E.  Hazen. 

ThisPrimer  consist."?  of  two  parts.  Part  the  First  is  coinimsed  of  .10  pages,  and 
contains  4'.i2  cuts,  or  pictures,  with  words  cxpres.sing  the  names  of  the  objects 
which  they  reprot^ent  directly  under  t  hem. 

Part  the  Second,  is  comiio.scd  of  T'iJ  pa-^es,  and  contains  the  cuts  which  are  in 
Part  the  First,  arranged  in  the  same  order,  with  explanations,  showing  the  nature 
and  use  of  tin?  objecis  which  they  rei)rese)it.  The  explanatioim  are  short  and  are 
designed  to  answer  the  purposes  both  of  Iteading  and  Spelling  Les.xons.  I'.xpeii- 
ence  ha.'^  proved  that  words  combined  in  sentences,  an>wer  a  nmcli  better  piiiitose 
for  Spelling  Lessons  than  when  arranged  in  ct)lniiiiis.  Tlie  Symbolical  Primer, 
however,  is  not  designed  merely  to  leach  children  to  spell  and  read,  but  also  t«) 
communicnte  information,  adapted  to  the  young  mind.  If  parents  and  teaclierH 
will  give  the  latter  ubjfxt  the  weight  which  it  deserve^,  liiey  will  never  object  to 
it  on  the  ground  that  it  contains  loo  many  pirtuies  and  no  colninns  lor  spelling.— 
The  fact  is,  then-  is  nothing  in  columns' of  words,  arranged  for  spelling  lessons, 
calculated  to  «'X(ile  the  att(-iition  or  to  alfortl  the  least  inslruclion,  and  consequent- 
ly children  cannot  be  made  to  pay  nmcli  attention  to  them.  Besides  the  orlhoiira- 
phy  of  words  Ihus  abstractly  presented,  cannot  be  r«'meinbered  without  n  great 
deal  of  ditfirulty,  inasmuch  as  therfc  is  nothing  with  which  the  words  can  he  asso 
tiatod  toaa^i-st  th«  memory. 


"  THE  SPELLER  and  DEFINER,  or  CLASS  BOOK,  No.  2," 

by  tin.'  panic  Author,  is  (lfsi<i;iif(l,  a.s  lliciiame  iniiioits,  to  answer  the  piiri>osc'S  ol  a 
Spelling  Hook  and  an  Kxposiioror  Dictionary.  It  is  composed  of  21.")  pajips,  and 
contains  aliont  HOOO  woids,  which  are  explained  and  pronounced  according  to  the 
best  aulhoiiiies. 

As  a  l)ook  to  he  committed  to  memory,  it  answers  a  nuich  better  purpose  than  a 
pchool  dictionary,  as  it  contains  a  h'ss  number  of  words,  and  such  only  as  are  in 
common  use.  The  words  beint?  chisscd  also  according  to  tlieir  parts  of  speecli, 
and  arranped  under  dilfcront  lieads,  accordinj,'  to  the  nmnber  of  letters  or  syllables 
of  which  they  arc  composed,  can  l»e  coinniilted  to  memory  in  less  than  half  tlie 
time  which  is  consumed  in  conmiitliii^-  the  sanx;  number,  arranged  on  the  conuuon 
pian.  The  time  usually  devoted  to  a  t^pelling  Book,  will  be  abundantly  sntficieni 
to  become  well  acquainted  witii  "77tc  Sywholirnl  rrimer'''  and  "77/f  Spr/lir  ami 
J)ijincr,"  so  that  the  knowledge  of  the  nu;auingof  the  words  and  other  information 
which  may  be  obtained,  will  be  clear  gain  to  the  jiupil. 

ENGLISH  GRAMMAR,  in  Familiar  Lectures,  accompanied  by 
a  Compendium;  embracing  a  new  systematic  order  of  Parsing,  a 
new  system  of  pimctuation,  Exercises  in  False  Syntax,  and  a  sys- 
tem of  Philosophical  Grammar,  in  notes :  to  which  are  added,  an 
Appendix,  and  a  Key  to  the  Exercises.  Designed  for  the  use  ol 
Schools  and  Private  Learners.     By  Samuel  Kirkham. 

"  S.  Kirkham,  E.siq.— I  have  examined  your  Grammar  with  attention,  and  witli 
a  particular  view  to  benefit  the  institution  under  my  charge.  I  am  fully  satisfied 
that  it  is  the  best  form  in  which  Murray's  principles  have  been  given  to  the  pub- 
lic. The  lectures  are  ample,  and  given  in  so  familiar  and  easy  language,  as  to  be 
readily  understood,  even  by  a  tyro  in  grammar. 

"  I  feel  it  due  to  say,  that  I  commenced  the  examination  of  your  work,  under  c 
strong  prejudice  airainst  it,  in  cons(!queiue  of  the  numerous  '  improved  systems' 
with  which  the  public  has  been  iiiniulated  of  late,  most  of  which  are  by  no  means 
improvements  on  Murray,  but  the  productions  of  individuals  whom  a  "  little  irram- 
mar  has  rendered  grammatically  insane. ''  My  convictions,  therefore,  are  the  re 
f^Ult  of  investigation. 

•'  I  wish  you,  Sir,  success  in  your  publication. 

"  Respectfully, 

"EBER  WHEATOX. 
Pr.  of  Mechanic's  Society  School. '' 

Upwards  of  six  humb-rd  otlier  recommendations  have  been  presented  to  the  au 
thor,  equally  flattering  with  the  above. 

LEVIZAC'S  FRENCH  GRAMMAR;  a  theoretical  and  practi 
cal  Grammar  of  tlie  French  Tongue,  in  which  the  present  usage  ii 
displayed,  agreeal)ly  to  the  decisions  of  the  French  Academy.  B3 
M.  Dc  Levizac.     1  vol.  12vo. 

PLAYFAIR'S  EIJCLTD ;  Elements  of  Geometry,  containing  th< 
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ELEMENTARY  PRIMER,  or  Fir.st  Lessons  for  Children  ;  beint 
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